


Dances in the Sea

by celticwanderer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), SanSan - Fandom, san/san - Fandom
Genre: AU, Adventure, Epic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Love, Sailing, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 144,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticwanderer/pseuds/celticwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1798. Eddard Stark has gambled his money away, therefore convinces his only child, Sansa to accept the interest the wealthy, but odd Joffrey Baratheon has in her. Sansa is content in their courtship, that is until she meets, the mysterious, brooding, Mr, Clegane. Their continuous chance encounters leave Sansa unable to deny to connection they share, and unaware of the adventure that lies before her. </p><p>This story is adapted from one that I love dearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

England, 1798

Eddard Stark sat looking at the cards in his hand and tried to maintain a neutral expression. Four of spades, five of clubs, six of hearts, seven of clubs, and eight of hearts; a straight. His heart began to pound and he prayed that the other men sitting at the table wouldn't notice the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on his forehead. Finally, a winning hand. He had been playing for hours and was finally on the receiving end of some luck. However it may be too late do him much good. He barely had enough money to keep in the game, let alone raise the other players bets so that he could win a decent amount. He fingered the last two chips sitting in front of him and carelessly tossed them into the pile in the center of the table.

"I would raise you more but unfortunately that is the last of the money I brought with me tonight," he said jovially. It was in fact very close to the last of his money entirely. If he won this hand he would be back in the game. A couple more wins after that and he would be ahead. Just a couple more wins.

"If you require a small loan, it can be arranged," his host replied smoothly. Mr. Binton's poker games were legendary. The men often played for days on end and more often than not fortunes were won and lost during those long weekends. Eddard was determined that the next fortune to fall would not be his.

"If it's no trouble," he said lighting a cigar, trying to appear calm. In reality he felt anything but calm.

"Of course not," Binton replied. He motioned to the dealer who placed a stack of chips in front of him. "Will that be sufficient?" he asked.

Eddard stared at the chips and managed to reply, "Yes, yes that will do. Thank you."

He bet heavily, sure that his straight would win the round. Through the haze of cigar smoke, he studied the other six inscrutable faces around the table. No one was giving away a thing. He knew that a straight wasn't the best hand possible but he felt it was enough. This time it was just enough. This was his round.

Two of the other players folded, followed by a third. When it finally came time to show their cards, he revealed his straight with a flourish. Such displays were usually frowned upon but he just couldn't help himself. He was about to reach for the mound of money in the center of the table when Binton placed his cards on the table. The four queens flanked by a ten stared at him. He couldn't believe it. He had lost. The eyes of the queens on the cards seem to mock him. He stared with disbelief as Binton raked in the pile of chips.

He would just have to win the next hand, he thought. Just a couple of skillfully played hands, along with a touch of luck and he would be able to pay back Binton and have a tidy sum left over.

Several hours, many unlucky hands and two more loans later, reality hit him and he realized how dire his situation was. He broke out into a sweat and felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that his fortune was most surely lost.

Placing a hand on his shoulder Binton asked, "I say old chum, are you all right?"

Recovering and attempting what he hoped was a cool smile he replied, "Of course, of course. Too much smoke, I suppose. Please excuse me. I'm going to get some air, I'll rejoin the game in a few minutes." He rose and walked to the french doors leading to the terrace. Once outside he staggered to the railing, breathing in great gulps of the cold January air. How could he have lost so much? How could he have such rotten luck? He rested his elbows on the railing and put his face in his hands. He would win it all back. He raised his head and tilted his face to the starry night sky. Please, he prayed, let me win it back, please.

He looked down to the frost covered gardens below. The ball had ended hours ago. His daughter, Sansa had danced the night away. She was eighteen and the light of his life. With her fiery red hair, peaches and cream complexion and just a light dusting of freckles across her nose she reminded him so much of her mother. It was a pity that Sansa hardly even remembered her. She had died of fever when she was only five, but for tonight he was glad that she wasn't around to witness this disgraceful decline into bankruptcy.

Oh Sansa, he thought. I have to win the money back, I just have to. He couldn't go home and tell her that he had lost everything. He didn't even have enough to pay for the gown she had worn tonight. The bill for that was mixed in with the mounting pile sitting on the desk in his study.

He heard footsteps and looked up. Joffrey Baratheon was walking towards him. He had evidently attended the ball as he was dressed in a very fine evening suit. The Baratheon family owned the two largest cotton mills in Liverpool as well as a very successful tobacco importing business and was one of the wealthiest and most influential families in town. Joffrey was twenty years old and the sole heir to his family's great fortune.

"Mr. Stark, Joffrey Baratheon. We met during the Christmas Ball that my family hosted a few weeks back," Joffrey said, his breath creating small silvery puffs in the night air.

"Yes, yes. Of course, I remember. Are you playing tonight?" he replied shaking the younger man's hand and gesturing towards the games going on inside.

"Yes, great fun isn't it? I've been having quite a good bit of luck. And you?"

"Oh yes, I've been rather lucky myself," he nervously lied.

Joffrey looked at him for a moment and then abruptly changing the subject he asked, "Were you surprised to have been invited to my family's ball at Christmas?"

Momentarily flustered by the unexpected question he said, "Why yes, as a matter of fact. I was a bit surprised to receive the invitation." The Baratheon's Christmas Ball was one of the social events of the season, usually reserved for Liverpool's most elite citizens. Eddard was certainly well respected and was thought to be modestly wealthy but not one of the inner circle. "Why do you ask?"

"Your daughter was the reason I sent the invitation." He paused while lighting a cigar. "She has grown into quite a beauty." Before he could reply, Joffrey again changed the course of the conversation. "How much do you owe old Binton, Mr. Stark?" he asked studying the glowing end of his cigar.

Trying to laugh off the question, he said lightly, "Oh not much, not much at all. I'll easily settle with him tomorrow."

Looking him in the eye, Joffrey said, "Settle with him tomorrow? I understand it's quite a tidy sum. Quite a tidy sum indeed." Noting the older man's perplexed look he continued. "I also understand that he is not the only one you owe money to, am I right?"

He leaned back against the railing and blew a plume of cigar smoke towards the cold stars shining down on them. "There are some rumors beginning to float about that you are unable to pay your debts. That you've gambled your fortune away and that you and your lovely daughter are penniless."

Eddard pulled out his handkerchief and nervously wiped his forehead. He was beginning to perspire despite the chilly air. Forcing a laugh he said, "Where have you heard such nonsense? Really, Mr. Baratheon, you shouldn't pay attention to idle gossip." 

Fixing his gaze again upon him, Joffrey said, "It is not gossip. I've been quietly checking on you for some time now. I know how much you owe the bank, and various shop keepers in town. I also know that you were barely able to pay your servants last month and that you are a week behind in their salaries this month."

"Why is this any of your concern?"

With another infuriating twist in the conversation Joffrey said, "Did you know that I twice asked your daughter to dance tonight?"

Bewildered Eddard replied, "She's a very good dancer, isn't she?"

"I wouldn't know," Joffrey said, his tone taking on a sharp edge. "She refused me both times and then avoided me for the remainder of the evening."

"I'm sure she was just tired when you asked her and she couldn't possibly have been avoiding you. Why would she do such a thing?"

"I don't think she likes me much." Joffrey took another step closer to Eddard. "Does Sansa know how much in debt you are?"

"No, of course not. She lives a very care-free life. I would never burden her with this."

"I could arrange to have many of those debts paid if you could persuade your lovely daughter to be a bit more friendly towards me."

He stared in shock at Joffrey, aghast at what he was suggesting.

"Come, come, not that friendly," Joffrey said with a laugh, reading the horrified expression on the older man's face. "I would like to call upon your daughter. Say, Saturday afternoon?" Without waiting for a response, he crossed to the french doors and rejoined the poker games.

The next morning Eddard sat grimly at the breakfast table waiting for Sansa to come down stairs. He had not slept at all and it was evident in his haggard appearance. He had changed his clothes but his disheveled hair, bleary eyes and drawn face made him look closer to seventy than just over fifty.

"My goodness Father. You must have had a late night. It looks as though you haven't even slept!" Sansa exclaimed good naturedly, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. Sitting down at the table she innocently asked, "How long did the card games go on?" Noting her father's surprised expression she continued, "Oh I know all about the gambling that goes on upstairs when you men retire to drink brandy and talk politics," she said with a mischievous smile. "So did you break the bank? Are you now the wealthiest man in town?" she teased.

She was pouring coffee and did not notice the distraught look in her father's eye as he replied with forced cheer, "Oh, I did all right." Hesitating slightly he continued, "I ran into Joffrey Baratheon while taking some air on the terrace."

Sansa made a face, confirming Joffrey’s thoughts about her opinion of him.

"Oh come, my dear. Joffrey is a fine young man. And comes from such a good family. And I do believe he finds you rather charming."

"Father, really. Did you know he followed me all last night at the ball? Pestering me to dance with him? It was most unseemly. I finally had to ask him to please leave me alone."

"Maybe you should give him another chance. He would make an excellent match for you," he continued hoping to convince her to change her mind.

"I do not intend to marry simply to make a good match. I intend to marry for love," she said brightly, placing a scone on her plate. "I want a husband who will love and adore me. Just like you loved and adored Mother."

Eddard felt his heart breaking. How dearly he wished he could assure his daughter that she could do that. How he wished he had not been such a fool and lost everything. "Maybe if you got to know Mr. Baratheon better."

"I have no intention of seeing Mr. Baratheon again."

"Unfortunately that is not possible. He is coming to visit on Saturday afternoon."

"Well, thank you for the advance notice. I will endeavor to be unavailable to assist you in entertaining him."

"He is coming specifically to see you my dear. You must be here."

"To see me?" Sansa asked. "You don't mean that he is coming to call on me?" The implication that this could be a romantic visit in any way horrified her. "Really, Father. Can we not cancel? Send a card saying that I have a fever and should not receive visitors until after the weekend."

"You will not be so rude, young lady. Mr. Baratheon is one of the most eligible bachelors in this town and you will be charming and attentive when he comes to call on you. Is that clear?" Eddard said sternly.

Startled by her father's tone she quietly responded "Yes, sir." She suddenly was no longer hungry for breakfast and quickly excused herself from the table.

He put his head in his hands and silently chastised himself again for forcing this upon on her. Joffrey isn't such a bad chap, he thought. She will like him. He can be very charming when he wants to be and he will want to be on Saturday.

The next day Sansa had lunch with her best friend Jeyne Poole. Jeyne was a vivacious girl with a mischievous and daring streak that caused Sansa no end of worry. Also eighteen, she was a raven haired beauty with dark blue eyes and a voluptuous figure.

"Sansa, that ball the other night was the best one so far. I had such fun. What did you think?" Jeyne asked.

"It was an exquisite party, but that awful Joffrey Baratheon kept following me all night, pestering me to dance with him. He almost ruined my evening."

"I rather think he fancies you," Jeyne said with a sly smile.

"Actually, you're right, he does," she replied matter of factly.

Surprised by her friend's uncharacteristic egotism, Jeyne regarded her with raised eyebrows.

"Jeyne, can you believe it? Mr. Baratheon actually sought my father out at his poker game that night and asked if he could call on me," Sansa stated indignantly.

Jeyne’s eyes grew wider. "Asked if he could call on you? What did your father say?" she asked eagerly.

"He said yes!" she replied angrily. "Without even asking me first. When I refused, he actually ordered me to entertain him when he comes on Saturday."

"Oh my, how tedious. You have spend Saturday afternoon entertaining one of the wealthiest young men in town. A young man who is smitten with you. How incredibly tiresome," Jeyne said with mock sympathy.

Sansa replied, "I don't care for Mr. Baratheon at all. He's weak and whiny and so bland looking. Those pale green eyes that just blend into the rest of his face and thin blond hair that make his ponytail look so scraggly. And such a weak chin. He doesn't seem very manly at all and when I look at him I don't feel a thing. I want love and romance. I want to be swept off my feet by love at first sight. I want to melt whenever I see him. And that most certainly doesn't happen with Joffrey Baratheon."

"Maybe when it's just the two of you he'll appeal to you more. I'm sure he can be most charming if he wants to be," Jeyne said hopefully.

"Hmmmm...I suppose so. Still, I wonder why father is so eager about this. He kept going on about what a wonderful match it would be for me. He's never mentioned anything about suitors before."

"Well, you are eighteen. Maybe he feels that it's time you had some suitors. You must start thinking about your future."

"That's easy for you to say. Men fall in love with you all the time. I'm sure you had several marriage proposals that night alone."

"I had several proposals all right. But they weren't for marriage," Jeyne replied with a wink and a wicked smile.

"Jeyne Poole! You didn't!" Sansa was horrified knowing exactly what kind of proposals Jeyne was referring to.

"Of course not! Did I leave the ball for even one minute? I was either with you or dancing. I didn't even go out on the terrace for a breath of fresh air, let alone go sneaking off into the library or billiards room with some man. Although I was tempted. That handsome fellow visiting from London was very charming," Jeyne said dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Sansa replied, "Oh Jeyne, what am I going to do with you?"

"You're going to go shopping for bonnets with me after we finish lunch. I saw a most darling one in a shop. And I saw a most exquisite one for you, all green velvet."

"I'll go with you, but I don't think I shall buy one for myself. Father has actually given me an allowance and told me I must learn to manage my own money. He says I must learn if I'm to know how to run a household once I marry."

"Hmmm...it does seem as though he is preparing you for marriage. It's probably a good thing. I should do the same, although it's most unlikely that I will. It seems awfully tiresome, having to count one's pennies." She made a face, and then brightened, "You can at least try it on. It'll be fun."


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday seemed to come all too quickly for Sansa. She sat at her dressing table pinning her hair into a severe chignon wearing her most unflattering dress. She was determined to look as unattractive as possible.

Shae, her maid, entered and exclaimed, "Oh, miss. Did you forget Mr. Baratheon is coming this afternoon? Perhaps we can find you something prettier to wear." She began to look through the large oak wardrobe, pulling out a very pretty dark blue velvet dress. "You look lovely in this. You still have time to change, and we can redo your hair."

"Thank you Shae, but I have not forgotten that Mr. Baratheon is coming. I chose this dress specifically for his visit."

Shae looked completely mystified by her mistress' words. "B-b-but miss, please excuse me, but that dress is not at all becoming."

"Yes, Shae, I know. I have no intention of impressing Mr. Baratheon. Father invited him and has insisted that I help him to entertain. He seems to have ideas that Mr. Baratheon is interested in courting me. Well, I intend to discourage that interest."

"Very well, miss." Shae put the gown back into the wardrobe thinking how nice it must be, to be able to dismiss wealthy suitors so carelessly.

Eddard Stark’s words echoed Shae's as Sansa came down the stairs. "Have you forgotten that Joffrey Baratheon is coming to call on you this afternoon? Go upstairs and change into something more fetching, that gown is dreadful. And do something with your hair. Put some ribbons in it or some curls. Where is that girl of yours?"

He was about to call for Shae when Sansa spoke. "I have not forgotten that he is coming. That is why I am dressed as I am. I am not at all interested in Joffrey Baratheon and I am hoping that he will change his mind about being interested in me."

Her father, desperate that his daughter change her attitude, pleaded, "Sansa, you haven't even given him a chance. Please make yourself look pretty and be nice to the man. Any girl in town would be thrilled to have him come to call."

"Then he can go and call on them. I have spoken with him and found him charming in a polite and distant way, but his behavior at the ball the other night was really dreadful. If you had seen him you would not have invited him today."

"He told me he asked you to dance only twice. That does not appear to be unseemly. Only your refusal both times was."

"Twice? Father, it was more than twice. Every time I stepped off the dance floor he was at my side begging the next dance. It really was appalling."

Eddard could take no more. It was imperative that she be charming and attentive this afternoon. "Young lady, I will not have you ruin this opportunity. You will go upstairs this minute and change your dress into something more flattering and you will undo that ridiculous hair do. Call your maid immediately."

Shocked by his stern tone, Sansa could only stare at him. He had never before spoken to her in such a manner.

"Now, before he gets here!" he all but shouted at her. Sansa ran from the room, calling for Shae.

Fifteen minutes later the butler announced Mr. Baratheon Eddard stood to greet him and apologized for Sansa's absence. "You know how long it takes women to get ready," he laughed nervously.

A maid entered with refreshments and left it on the table, as Sansa entered the room wearing the blue velvet that Shae had earlier suggested. Her hair had been released from the tight chignon and was now loosely bound at the nape of her neck, the long fiery red curls hanging down her back. The deep blue of the gown complimented her ivory complexion and turned her blue eyes ice. She looked questioningly at her father who nodded his approval, breathing a sigh of relief.

Joffrey rose and taking her hand he chastely kissed the back of it. Complimenting her on her beauty he said, "You look just as breathtaking as you did at the ball."

"Thank you. You're much too kind," she murmured in response. Reaching for the teapot, she asked, "How do you take your tea, Mr. Baratheon?"

Sansa was the very image of the perfect hostess. She was charming and attentive as her father had instructed but she was also cool and distant. The afternoon passed pleasantly enough and she eventually found Joffrey to be not quite so distasteful.

Near the end of the visit, Eddard murmured an excuse and left the room to give them a few minutes alone. As soon as he had left, Joffrey said, "Miss Stark, I really must beg your pardon for my abominable behavior the other night at the ball. I was just so taken with your beauty that I acted in a most appalling manner and can only hope that you will forget the episode and that we can start with a fresh slate."

Something in his over eager manner did not seem quite right to Sansa, it was almost as if he were hiding something. However, she replied, "Of course, Mr. Baratheon, consider it forgotten." I wish I could forget that evening myself, she though to herself.

"Splendid. I should like to call on you again. Would that be all right?"

Finding that his visit had not been as terrible as she thought, she consented. "Yes, Mr. Baratheon that would lovely."

The look of satisfaction that settled on his face as soon as she spoke made her regret her words. Something is certainly not as it seems with Mr. Baratheon, she thought. Mentally shaking her head she chastened herself, I'm just looking for fault where there is none. Her father seemed to have his hopes set on this match and while she would not necessarily encourage it she also would not purposely ruin it either.

True to his word, Eddard found his debt to Mr. Binton paid the following Monday. However his other debts were still a great problem and he knew that the only solution was Sansa's continued courtesy to Joffrey. He only hoped that Joffrey would ask to marry her. Even if the debts were paid the money was still gone. Eddard had lived a life of leisure his entire existence. He had never worked, just lived off the ample proceeds of his father's investments and trust funds. However, he had sold off the investments and plundered all of the trust funds but one in order to satiate his obsession with gambling. He had no trade, no way to earn money. That remaining trust fund and Joffrey Baratheon were his, and Sansa’s, only salvation.

Later in the week Eddard asked Sansa when she was to see Joffrey again. "He is sending his carriage for me on Saturday. He has invited me for tea. Shae will accompany me."

"I'm glad to see that you have changed your mind about him."

"Yes, Father, you were right. He can be rather charming."

Feeling that their financial worries would soon be over, Eddard felt generous and gave Sansa some money to buy herself something with. "Go with Jeyne into town and get yourself that green velvet bonnet you mentioned."

"Oh thank you Father," Sansa exclaimed, kissing her father on the cheek.

Sansa was constantly amazed by the number of people she saw loaded down with bags and trunks heading for the harbor. The lure of America was greater than ever and more and more people were risking the crossing to try their luck in the raw new land. Liverpool's Mersey Harbor was a large one and most of the ships were either going to or just returning from America. People from all over Europe came to Liverpool to begin their voyage. The streets were full of people in the traditional clothing of their homeland, speaking in a dozen different languages and accents.

As the two girls walked down the snowy street together they always attracted the attention of more than a few men. However, today they ignored the stares that followed them.

"I don't know Jenny, something just didn't quite seem right. It was almost as if he were hiding something, or lying about something." Sansa was trying to explain Joffrey's visit to Jeyne.

"Maybe he was just so distracted by your dazzling beauty that he only seemed to be acting strange," Jeyne laughed.

"No, really, I'm serious. He was not distracted, although he did seem a bit distant and not at all what I was expecting. I guess what I was expecting was for him to behave as he had at the ball. Annoying and over attentive."

"Were you disappointed that by his coolness?"

"Heavens, no. I was relieved. And he did apologize for his behavior that night. Still, something wasn't quite right."

"Are you going to see him again?"

"Yes, he's invited me for tea at his home on Saturday. Shae will accompany me."

Jeyne was so excited for her friend. "Oh, Sansa I'm so happy that you finally have a romance. All your talk of wanting to fall in love, madly and deeply in love. How are you to fall in love if you never give any man a chance? You've only received Joffrey once and you're already certain that there's something wrong with him."

"Oh, I know. I keep telling myself that it's just my imagination, that I'm purposely trying to find fault." Turning pensive she continued, "I just thought that when I met the right man I would know the instant I saw him. Know that he's the one."

As they turned a corner a man struggling with a large trunk bumped into Sansa causing her to stumble on the icy cobblestones. He staggered away, distractedly calling out what appeared to be an apology, not realizing that he had knocked her off balance. As she attempted to regain her footing a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up.

She found herself suddenly staring up into the most beautifully intense grey eyes she had ever seen. They were surrounded by thick dark lashes and topped by a strong masculine brow. She was so mesmerized that it was a moment before she realized that the man had scars covering the entire right side of his face.

Pulling herself out of her trance she said, "I appreciate your help, sir, but could you please release me?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you had your balance," he replied in a smooth, deep voice. “And I am no sir.”

"Yes, I'm sure that I do," Sansa replied tersely, her anger beginning to rise. She pushed on the man's arms to let her go.

Not relinquishing his hold, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite," she snapped and with that she pushed against his chest and freed herself from his grasp and in doing so almost lost her balance again.

As she attempted to collect herself, Jeyne piped up, "Thank you so much for your help, Mr...?"

"Sandor Clegane, at your service," he announced, with a nod. He towered over the two young women. His thick, dark, almost black hair, flecked with snow flakes, was tied back with a ribbon. He was wearing an impeccably tailored long, black, wool great-coat that hugged his broad shoulders and strong arms. His long legs were encased in black breeches and shiny black boots. A white shirt stood out starkly against his otherwise black attire. His full lips broke into a smile displaying straight white teeth. The girls were used to seeing men with scars, and missing limbs from the war, so his face did not shock them. In fact, he was surprisingly handsome. "And you two lovely ladies are?"

Jeyne, holding out her hand, and batting her lashes at the handsome gentleman introduced them. "I am Miss Jeyne Poole and this is Miss Sansa Stark."

"Well, Miss Poole and Miss Stark, it is surely a pleasure to meet you," he stated, taking Jeyne's hand and gallantly placing a kiss upon it, but keeping his eyes on Sansa.

Sansa, not impressed by his charm, and unsettled by his intense gaze, said coldly, "Thank you again for your assistance, Mr. Clegane, I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you. Good afternoon."

His eyes insolently scanned over Sansa's tall slender figure. With a smirk he replied, "I assure you, it was no inconvenience at all, but rather, a pleasure. Good afternoon ladies."

As he walked away Sansa could not help but notice his confident stride and the way the young women in the street turned to stare at him.

"Really, Jeyne, can you believe the rudeness of that man?"

"Oh, but Sansa, he's so handsome, and charming, and I do think he was rather taken with you!" she replied with a wink.

"Oh, you really are terrible. I'm sure he won't give me another thought." Sansa could still feel his strong arms and chest under her hands and rubbed them together as if to rid them of the feeling.

Even though she was sure that the man would forget her the moment he turned away from them she was annoyed that she could not stop thinking about him. As they were sitting having lunch, she suddenly realized that she was no longer paying attention to Jeyne's excited chatter about her new romance with Joffrey but was thinking instead about how Sandor's chest had felt under her hands as she pushed herself out of his grasp. Even though she had been wearing gloves and he was clothed in a heavy wool coat she had still been able to feel the hard muscles in his chest and arms.

"Sansa, are you listening to me? You seem to be in another world. Perhaps you're thinking about the extremely handsome Mr. Clegane?" her friend teased.

Annoyed that Jeyne had read her thoughts so clearly, she retorted, "Of course not, don't be silly. I would just rather not talk or think about Joffrey."

"Well then, how about we do talk about that handsome stranger?" Her dark blue eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I didn't think he was handsome at all. In fact, I didn't even notice," she stated with an effected air of disinterest.

"Mmmm...really? Well, I certainly did and he most certainly was! Even with the burns. It makes him seem so dangerous." She giggled.

In a desperate effort to change the subject Sansa asked, "Where shall we go shopping? Father gave me some money to buy myself something with and I would like to see if that bonnet I looked at last week is still there."

Jeyne tried to suppress a smile and began to chatter on again about the various places they could go that afternoon.

Over the next few days Sansa continued to find herself in the middle of some task and suddenly be not thinking about it at all, but thinking instead about Sandor Clegane. The feeling of his strong arms and chest and the way it felt to be held by those arms and pressed up against that chest gave rise to butterflies in her stomach. She would close her eyes trying to rid herself of the feeling but all she could see were his grey eyes staring intently at her. She angrily pushed the thoughts and images away but they still came back and caught her unawares.

Saturday arrived and Shae had just finished arranging Sansa's hair when the butler announced that Mr. Baratheon’s coach had arrived and was waiting to take them to the Baratheon home. The Baratheon family lived in a large red brick mansion. Sansa looked on in awe as the carriage pulled up in front of the house. Of course she had seen the house a few weeks before, when they had arrived for the Christmas Ball, but in the excitement of that evening she hadn't really taken notice. However, now, in the light of day, she took a good look. A liveried footman helped her and Shae out and escorted them to the front door, where the butler took over. He ushered them into a lavish sitting room where Joffrey was already waiting for them. The butler announced them and took his leave.

Joffrey rose and crossed the room to greet Sansa. "Miss Stark, I'm so glad you were able to come," he said kissing her hand.

"Thank you. This is my maid, Shae," she replied indicating Shae who was taking a seat in the corner.

Joffrey merely glanced at the girl before ringing for his own maid to bring them some tea.

"Well, Miss Stark, what have you been up to this past week?" Joffrey inquired as a maid entered carrying a heavy tray. She was clearly struggling with it, but Joffrey paid her no mind.

The girl set the tray down rather heavily on a side table. Joffrey gave her a stern look and the maid bobbed her head and murmured, "Pardon me, sir."

Joffrey frowned and replied only, "Pour," indicating that he wished her to serve the tea.

Sansa was appalled at the way in which Joffrey was treating his maid. She would never be so rude to any of her servants. Shae was almost like a sister to her and the other servants in the house were as close as family. Sansa wondered if Joffrey even knew this girl's name.

As she handed Sansa her tea, she made a point of saying thank you, hoping that Joffrey would take the hint but he didn't even notice. She told him about going shopping with Jeyne and was telling him about how fascinating it was to see all the travelers in town but Joffrey only seemed to be half paying attention. His mind was somewhere else.

"Is something bothering you, Mr. Baratheon?" she inquired. "You seem distracted."

"Hm?" he appeared startled by her question. "Oh no, no. Nothing serious. I'm sorry if I haven't been giving you my full attention. I will endeavor to be more attentive." He reached out and covered her hand with his own. "And please, call me Joffrey. May I call you Sansa?"

Blushing, Sansa looked away and said, "Yes, that would be fine... Joffrey."

The remainder of the visit passed pleasantly, but once again as she rode home in the carriage she could not help but feel that something was amiss. "Shae, what did you think of Mr. Baratheon's behavior this afternoon?"

"He was a perfect gentleman Miss Sansa," she replied. "Although..." she hesitated before continuing.

"Although? Although what?" she prodded.

"Well, it almost seemed as if...well...as if..."

"He were holding something back? Maybe even hiding something?" Sansa suggested.

"Yes, exactly," the maid replied. "As if he was hiding something. I think there may be more to this courtship than meets the eye," she added.

"I thought maybe it was my imagination. Trying to find fault so I would have an excuse to refuse him."

"Miss Sansa, it is only a suspicion. I may be wrong. I have never met the gentleman before and maybe it's just his way. Or perhaps he's nervous in your presence and we're interpreting his actions incorrectly."

"Hmm, you may be right."

"Maybe you should give him a little longer before you decide. After all, you may regret it if you're wrong. He would make an excellent match for you."

"You're right Shae, I'll give him a little longer. Maybe all he needs to do is get to know me better."

Satisfied with her decision, they arrived back at home where Sansa sought out her father to tell him how her visit with Joffrey had gone. He would be delighted that they were now on a first name basis.


	3. Chapter 3

The courtship continued throughout the month of January and into February with teas and walks and carriage rides, all properly chaperoned by either Shae or Jeyne. Eddard, however, didn't readily approve of Jeyne acting as chaperone. He knew of her mischievous streak and love of adventure and didn't quite trust her to ensure that nothing improper happened during Sansa's visits with Joffrey. Jeyne's presence was merely for the sake of propriety, he trusted his daughter to ensure that nothing indecent occurred.

With Sansa's growing fondness of Joffrey, most of their debts were now paid off, and Eddard's mind was much more at ease. He still had the money from the remaining trust fund and although it didn't supply a very generous income, it was enough to keep things going as they were for now. Until Sansa was married. Perhaps he should invest the capital he thought. No gambling, no long shots, something sure and steady. He could sell the townhouse and dismiss most of the staff after she was gone, using the excuse that he no longer needed a large house full of servants. He could get by with a smaller residence and just a man servant. Satisfied with his decision he decided to treat Sansa to lunch in town.

"Oh, father lunch with you would be wonderful, but I already have plans with Jeyne."

"Well then, I will just have to take you both out for lunch. You don't mind me intruding on your plans, do you?" he asked.

"Oh no father, not at all. Jeyne will love to see you."

They took the carriage to pick Jeyne up and as she climbed into the cab she noticed Eddard. "Why, Mr. Stark, are you joining us for lunch?"

"Yes, I thought I would treat you two to lunch." With a wink he added, "It's the only chance I get to hear all the gossip."

"Oh, Mr. Stark, we never gossip," Jeyne said, exaggerating a shocked expression. "We only talk of the weather and discreetly inquire about the health and welfare of our many acquaintances," she continued, barely containing a giggle.

"Ah yes, health and welfare," Eddard said with attempted seriousness but unable to suppress a smile. He may not always approve of Jeyne Poole but he had to admit she was great fun.

They enjoyed a delightful lunch, where the girls did gossip but not nearly to the degree they would if they had been alone. Eddard thoroughly enjoyed himself and was for once able to forget about his troubles. He gave Sansa a little more money suggesting they visit a café and get some hot chocolate. He left them the carriage and took a cab back home.

"Your father was certainly in a good mood today. He's been a bit glum lately," Jeyne said sitting in the café, sipping her hot chocolate.

"Yes, he hasn't been himself for awhile now. Maybe he's finally snapping out of it."

"Do you think it may have something to do with your romance with Joffrey?"

Sansa said, "It might. He is happy about it. He had to work so hard to convince me to give Joffrey a chance. I'm glad he did."

"Could it be that you're falling in love?" Jeyne asked eagerly.

Sansa sighed, "No, Jenny, it's not love. I am fond of him but there's no excitement. I'm not sure what to expect but I thought it would be more thrilling. Maybe I'm expecting too much. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be."

"Do you know how he feels about you?"

"He acts as though he's fond of me as well," she hesitated before continuing. "Don't you think there should be some passion? That I should be just dying for him to kiss me? He hasn't even tried you know."

"I do know. I've chaperoned you many times and he has been a perfect gentleman. Maybe next time I should turn my back or manage to leave you alone for a few minutes and see what he does," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Sansa tried to act shocked but could only giggle as a blush crept into her cheeks.

As they were leaving the café, Jeyne asked, "I wanted to stop in at the dressmaker's today. Mother has promised me a new gown and I'd like to look at fabrics. You have such good taste, please come with me and help me choose."

Sansa was agreeing to accompany her as she stepped out of the door. She was speaking over her shoulder, not looking where she was going and collided with another customer coming into the shop. A strong hand grabbed her arm to steady her and she found herself yet again face to face with Sandor Clegane.

"Why Miss Stark, how nice to bump into you again," he said in a low, raspy voice. "You may recall we met several weeks ago under very similar circumstances."

Sansa needed no reminder of who he was and once again she was drawn into those beautiful grey eyes. Her breath quickened and her heart began to pound in her chest. She was so spellbound by him, she didn't even notice that he had drawn her closer and that she was pressing herself against him until his arm crept around her waist. She caught herself but hesitated slightly before pressing her hands against his chest again but could think of no other way to quickly free herself. She hurriedly pushed out of his embrace and blushing furiously, brushed past him into the street. Much to her frustration she could hear his laughter behind her as she stalked off. Jeyne rushed to catch up to her.

"Well that was rather rude of you," she chastised Sansa.

"Did you see what he did?" Sansa almost shouted. "He...he...molested me! The nerve of him!"

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to be molested by a man like that!"

"Jeyne!" Sansa gasped. "You shouldn't say such things!"

"But Sansa, he's so roguishly handsome, even with the scars. How can you resist him?"

"He is rude, improper and no gentleman!"

"I know! That's what makes him so irresistible!"

"Joffrey would never behave like that."

"Maybe he should. I noticed how you reacted to Mr. Clegane. You were rather captivated," Jeyne said suggestively

"He...he...just caught me by surprise, is all. I didn't notice that he was in the doorway," she stammered. Although she had to admit, at least to herself, that the way her breath had caught in her throat and the way her heart had started to pound just by looking into his eyes was the way she wished she felt when she was around Joffrey.

Sandor stood in the doorway and watched as Sansa stormed off down the street with her friend desperately trying to catch up with her. He couldn't believe his good luck by literally running into the flame haired beauty again. Ever since their initial meeting, the way she had felt in his arms kept intruding on his thoughts. And those big blue eyes had haunted his dreams. So, when he found himself again staring into those sapphire depths he forgot himself and didn't even realize that he was pulling her closer and that she was complying, until just before she pushed herself out of his embrace. He could not help laughing when he saw the flush that rose in her cheeks as she pushed past him out of the shop.

A few days later was Sansa's next date with Joffrey. She asked Jeyne to chaperone as she didn't know if Shae would leave her alone with Joffrey even if she asked. Together, the two of them hatched an innocent plan of seduction.

"Winter is so dreadfully dull, don't you think?" Sansa asked Joffrey as they sat in the parlor of his house looking out into the snowy street. "I can't wait to see flowers again," she said wistfully.

"Flowers? Why, I have a green house and it's full of roses. I grow them myself," he said proudly. "Would you like to see them?"

"Oh yes," she replied eagerly.

He stood and was leading them out of the room when Sansa turned to Jeyne and winked. They entered the humid green house and it indeed was full of beautiful roses. As they began to tour through the bushes, Joffrey proudly related the history behind each one. He was trying to create his own hybrid and had just launched into an explanation of the complicated procedure when Jeyne put her hand to her head.

"Mr. Baratheon, Sansa, I'm sorry but the fragrance from the flowers is overwhelming. I must leave or I fear I'll faint." She turned to leave and added, "Continue the tour, I will wait for you back in the parlor." Wagging her finger she admonished, "Now behave yourselves."

Sansa looked nervously at Joffrey and gave him a shy smile. He, however, dove right back into his explanation of creating a new variety of rose. She gathered her courage and interrupting him she said, "Joffrey, may I ask you something?"

Thinking she was going to ask him a question about rose growing he eagerly replied, "Certainly. What would you like to know?"

"Well, as you well know we have been...seeing each other...for almost two months now, yet other than continuing to ask for my company you haven't given any indication of your feelings for me."

Confused by her statement, he didn't know what to say. "Well, of course I've grown fond of you, Sansa."

No longer able to contain her frustration and curiosity she stepped closer to him and said, "We're alone now. Don't you want to kiss me?"

Finally understanding what she meant he said, "Why yes, we are alone, aren't we?" He wrapped his hands around her arms and gently pulled her to him. As his thin, wormy lips descended onto hers, Sansa waited for the same sensations to consume her as they did when she had run into Sandor. His lips pressed briefly against hers before he released her.

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing." The two girls were back at Sansa's townhouse and she was telling Jeyne about the kiss. "I didn't even blush."

"And you blush so easily. Was it a bad kiss?" she inquired.

"No, I don't think so. And I do not blush easily!" Sansa stated.

"I know how to make you blush," her friend teased. "Just think about Sandor Clegane holding you in his strong arms at the door to the café the other day," she said dreamily.

Much to her chagrin, a blush did creep up into her cheeks. "It's a blush of embarrassment, that I was caught in such a compromising position. And a blush of indignation that he behaved so improperly."

"You were the one who behaved improperly," Jeyne said, continuing to tease. "I saw the way you were wantonly pressing against him. And don't deny that you weren't," she said gleefully.

"I was not pressing myself against him." Trying desperately to find another explanation for her actions she said, "I was only trying to keep my balance after bumping into him."

"Oh yes, of course, that's what you were doing," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Sansa's blush only deepened.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Jeyme said with a giggle.

Sansa tried to scowl at her, but couldn't help from laughing.

Joffrey began a practice of kissing Sansa on the cheek when in the presence of others and placing quick, chaste kisses upon her lips if no one happened to be about. However, his kisses, even the stolen ones, never stirred any passion in her. True to what Jeyne had said, if she wanted to feel passion she only had to think of her embrace with Sandor in the doorway of the café. She tried not to think of it, but as with the first time she had met him, she often found herself reliving the encounter without even realizing it. And more than once, she awoke breathlessly from restless dreams, dreams of which all she could remember were a pair of smoldering grey eyes.

More weeks passed and soon it was April. Sansa was having lunch with Joffrey in a sitting room of his mansion. They were chatting about how the weather was getting warmer and soon they would be able to go on picnics and go riding together.

"What are your plans for later this afternoon?" Joffrey asked her.

"I was going to go shopping with Jeyne. She is having some summer dresses made and I promised to go to the dressmaker with her," she replied.

"Do you know if your father is at home today?" he inquired.

"Yes, I believe he is."

"Good, I would like to see him." Taking her hand he said, "There is a matter I wish to discuss with him."

Sansa knew he meant to speak to her father about marriage and to ask for her hand. She expected her heart to soar, but she only felt a slight tightness in her stomach. She managed a shy smile as she demurely dropped her eyes.

Jeyne squealed with delight. "He's going to ask you to marry him?" The dressmaker, kneeling on the floor, attempting to hem her dress, gave her a sharp look.

"Yes, I think so," Sansa replied.

"Well, you don't sound very excited."

"I thought I would be excited, but for some reason I'm not."

"Oh yes. I forgot. You're still expecting the heavens to part and have the angels sing to you. Maybe true love isn't like that. Maybe it's approach is much softer and subtler. Perhaps it's only lust and infatuation that leaves a person all flustered and happy and excited. It's all very thrilling but it never lasts. Perhaps, what you have with Joffrey is the real thing. Something that can continue to grow and blossom."

The dressmaker glared at her again. "Please miss, you're going to have to stand still."

"Perhaps, you're right. It does sound more sensible." She sighed and then said with frustration, "But I want both. I want parting heavens, angels singing and true, lasting love. Is that too much to ask?"

Jeyne began to giggle, but stopped short as the dressmaker glared at her yet again.

Back out on the street they continued their conversation. "We must begin planning. What will your dress look like? I hear that in Paris women are actually having wedding gowns made. Isn't that deliciously extravagant? To have a gorgeous gown made to wear only once? Oh, and your trousseau. When you marry you get to have all the naughty lingerie. All the sheer peignoirs and chemises. No more cotton for you. From now on it will only be the finest, sheerest, dotted swiss silk," she said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Jeyne, you shouldn't speak about such things in public," Sansa said aghast. Looking about she said, "Someone might hear you!"

"Oh, no one is listening. When will the wedding be?"

"He hasn't even asked me yet. He only said that he wished to speak to father about something. It may have nothing at all to do with marriage. Perhaps it has to do with business of some sort."

"You said he placed his hand over yours when he told you."

"Yes, that's true," Sansa conceded. "Truthfully Jeyne, I'm not sure I want to marry Joffrey. I still think that there's a thrilling and exciting love out there for me."

"Speaking of thrilling and exciting..." Jeyne said, staring across the street.

She turned to see what had caught her attention. Her heart jolted and her breath caught in her throat. Across the street was Sandor Clegane, walking with another man, his great height towering over him. She felt butterflies in her stomach and try as she might she couldn't tear her eyes from him. She could feel his strong arms and chest in her palms as though she were again touching him.

As if feeling her eyes on him, he turned towards her. His grey eyes met with her blue ones and she began to feel a warmth growing in her stomach. The moment seemed to last an eternity before he raised his fingers to the brim of his hat in greeting. As he nodded his head to her, the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin and a sparkle glinted in his eye before he turned back to his companion.

Jeyne was looking up at Sansa. "So, what joyous hymn are the angels singing?" she asked knowingly.

She tore her eyes from Sandor's retreating figure to stare at Jeyne. "Whatever do you mean?"

"From your reaction at seeing Mr. Clegane it appeared as though the heavens had parted and the angels were singing to you," she replied, her eyes dancing with delight.

"Are you suggesting that I am in love with him?" she demanded.

"Well, it may not be love, but there is certainly something there. You exhibit all the symptoms that you wish you had with Joffrey. Mr. Clegane hasn't even kissed you, yet look at how flustered you get just exchanging a glance with him from across the street." Looking sideways at her friend she continued, "I think you may be a bit infatuated with the handsome gentleman."

"That's absurd. I don't even know him. And he is no gentleman. He even said so himself!"

Laughing, Jeyne tugged on Sansa's arm and said, "Come, my contradictory friend, let's go look at gloves. I need new ones to go with my new dresses."


	4. Chapter 4

When she arrived back home her father wasn't in. She was eager to ask him what it was that Joffrey had wanted to see him about. She sat in the sitting room with a piece of embroidery trying to pass the time, but she was so distracted that she couldn't concentrate on what she was doing. She had started out trying to decide whether or not she would be happy if her father told her that Joffrey had asked for her hand, but she ended up recounting Jeyne's comments about her reaction to seeing Sandor.

The way she had felt when their eyes met certainly was the way that she had always dreamed love would feel like. But she couldn't possibly be in love with him. She didn't even know him. Even though they had already shared two rather intimate embraces, they were both accidents and did not mean anything. She didn't know anything about him, his family, or what he did for a living. Judging by his fine attire and the way he spoke he appeared to be wealthy and well bred. Well, perhaps educated and cultured would be better words, she thought, for he certainly displayed appalling manners. Not that her actions had shed her in a very favorable light she had to admit. She had been wantonly pressing herself against him in that doorway, she confessed to herself, a blush tinting her cheeks. Now what did that mean? Frustrated, she tossed the embroidery aside, knowing that it was useless to even try.

She decided to help Shae in packing away her winter wardrobe and unpacking her lighter clothes to take her mind off things. She was instructing one of the grooms on which trunk to bring down from the attic when she heard the carriage out front. She finished her instructions and went downstairs to greet her father. She found him in the library, pouring himself a brandy.

"Hello, Father," she said walking into the room.

Eddard turned, took one look at his daughter and burst out laughing. "You look like a scullery maid," he said in response to her questioning look. "You're all covered in dust," he explained. "Whatever have you been doing?"

Sansa caught sight of herself in a mirror and she indeed was a sight. Her hair was in disarray and she was covered in dust. There was even part of a spider web caught on her shoulder. "I was in the attic. I've been helping Shae put away my winter clothes and bring down my spring wardrobe."

"Why were you helping her? You shouldn't be doing that."

"I needed something to occupy myself. I was feeling fidgety and restless this afternoon."

With a sly smile, her father said, "I know that Joffrey told you he had wanted to see me."

Feigning disinterest, she replied, "Yes, he did mention it." Trying to maintain her aloof air she said, "What was it he wanted to see you about?" Without realizing it, she nervously bit her lip awaiting his answer.

"I'm afraid my dear, that I have been sworn to secrecy." He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "Although, I am to tell you that he wishes to call on you late tomorrow morning. And I would suggest that you make sure you have a handkerchief handy as you may be shedding some tears." Once again seeing a puzzled look in his daughter's eyes, he added, "I daresay they will be tears of joy." He playfully wiped some dust off her nose before placing a kiss there. "Now, why don't you get cleaned up? We should be dining soon."

Sansa looked at the clock over the fireplace. The hands read 5:30. It was indeed much later than she had thought. She returned to her room to prepare for dinner.

Eddard sank into one of the leather club chairs before the fire and took a large gulp of his brandy. He stared into the amber liquid as he recounted his meeting with Joffrey earlier that day. He had been sitting there in the library when the butler announced that Joffrey Baratheon had come to see him.

"Hello Joffrey, what brings you here?" he had asked the younger man as he entered the room.

"I would like to speak with you about Sansa."

"Why of course, have a seat. Would you care for a brandy?"

"Yes, thank you."

Eddard handed Joffrey a glass and they both sat in the worn leather chairs.

"What is it about Sansa that you wished to speak?"

"First I would like to commend you for holding up your end of our bargain. Your daughter has indeed warmed to me and I do believe that she has even developed some feelings for me as well. In return I did as I promised. Do you agree?"

Eddard nodded wordlessly and took a sip of his drink.

"I believe that all of your debts are paid and that you are managing to subsist nicely on the income from your remaining trust fund." He stared into his glass a moment before continuing. "I find, however, that we may now have run into a small problem."

"Problem?" Eddard asked.

"I should like to ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage and that is where the problem lies."

"Oh, but I'm sure Sansa will be delighted. She will most surely accept your proposal."

"That is not the problem I was referring to," he said stiffly. "What I meant was that it is traditionally the bride's family who pays for the wedding and who also supplies her trousseau. I know that this is impossible for you."

Eddard's face fell. He had forgotten about the tradition and that Sansa would require a trousseau. "Oh dear," he said weakly, before taking another sip of his brandy.

"Since I have grown so fond of your daughter, I am willing to pay for the wedding and to give you some additional money so that Sansa can purchase whatever else she may need. Just have the bills sent to me."

"Thank you. You are very generous and understanding," Eddard said with some difficulty. He hated having to be so humble to this man but for Sansa he would endure any humiliation.

"Splendid," the younger man said happily. "Please let Sansa know that I will be calling on her late tomorrow morning. But do not tell her why. I'm sure she suspects however I would like to maintain at least a semblance of surprise." With that he rose, collected his hat and coat and left the library. His brandy sat untouched on the small table next to his vacated chair.

Eddard had sat before the fire for a few minutes until he heard Joffrey’s carriage drive away. He summoned his butler and requested his own carriage. He had suddenly felt the need to be out of the house.

He now sat before the fire again, humiliated but also relieved that Sansa would be taken care of. He was finishing his brandy when the butler announced that dinner was being served.

Sansa dressed with great care the next morning and she instructed Shae to fix her hair as pretty as possible.

"Is this a special occasion Miss Sansa?" Shae asked, brushing out her long coppery curls.

"I believe Joffrey is going to ask me to marry him," she replied.

"Oh miss, how exciting!"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I know that he visited Father yesterday and that whatever they spoke of, Father was sworn to secrecy. However, he did tell me that I was going to be very happy." Even though she wasn't happy or excited she thought that if she pretended to be it might help her to really feel that way.

She sat in her room waiting for Shae to announce Joffrey. When she finally did, Sansa took a deep breath and went downstairs.

She smiled brightly at him and said gaily, "Two visits in as many days. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Joffrey smiled brightly as well and as Shae was in the room, he kissed her on the cheek. "I have something I would like to speak to you about."

"Yes, what is it?" She hoped she didn't sound too eager.

"As I'm sure you know, I have grown quite fond of you over the last few months and I believe that your feelings for me have grown in much the same way."

"Yes, yes they have," she said, silently thankful that he had not said that he loved her, for she would not have been able to return the sentiment.

"And I think that our feelings for each other will continue to grow." He got off the couch and knelt before her, holding out a small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a stunning diamond ring. "Sansa, will you marry me?" he asked.

Sansa's look of surprise was genuine as she had never seen such a magnificent ring. She heard herself saying yes and Joffrey slipped the ring onto her finger. Right in front of Shae he kissed her full on the mouth.

She stared at the ring noting how brilliantly it sparkled in the morning light.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yes, it's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it." Rising she walked over to Shae. "Shae, isn't is beautiful? Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Joffrey frowned at Sansa. He didn't like the way she was so familiar with her maid and with the other servants in her house. That would change after they were married. It would not do for his wife to be so friendly with the servants.

"It is beautiful, Miss Sansa. Congratulations."

"It's becoming the custom on the continent to give diamond engagement rings. I hope you don't mind being the first girl in Liverpool to have one."

"No, no not at all," she replied, still dazzled by the ring. "Let's go show Father."

They shared the news with her father, who, of course, already knew, and after Joffrey had left she sat in her room staring at the ring. She watched the light dance across the stone and sparkle and shine. She had agreed to marry him. But she didn't love him.

Shae came in to help her change. Yesterday she had made arrangements to visit Jeyne today and let her know what happened. "You don't look very happy, Miss Sansa. Is everything alright?"

"I don't love him, Shae."

"That will change, miss. You'll grow to love him."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. Before he began calling on her, she thought she wouldn't even like him let alone develop any feelings for him. "Maybe love will blossom eventually."

She stared at the ring a moment longer. "I always thought it would be different. I thought it would be a wonderful, magical feeling. Have you ever been in love Shae?"

"Me? Oh, I thought I was once, but it didn't work out."

"Why? What happened?"

"It was before I came to work here, miss. I worked on a large estate outside of London and there was a stable boy named Jimmy. I was mad for him," she said wistfully. "He was tall and strong and so handsome. He called me his flower blossom, saying I was just as pretty and smelled just as sweet. He said he loved me and I believed him."

Her voice grew sad as she continued. "Late one evening I was feeling very brazen and I snuck out to the stables. He had a room over the them and I knew which window was his. His light was on so I quietly crept up the stairs, hoping to surprise him. However, it was I who got the surprise."

When she didn't continue Sansa said, "What happened?"

She glanced at Sansa before saying in a quiet voice, "He wasn't alone. He was in bed with one of the kitchen girls. He was murmuring to her that he loved her and how she was his flower blossom." Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly blinked them back and said, "That's when I came here."

"I'm so sorry, Shae," she said with genuine sympathy.

"Oh, it's alright, miss," she said dismissively. "It's a good thing I found out just what sort he was before I did anything stupid."

She finished getting ready and asked Shae to call the carriage.

When she arrived at Jeyne's, her friend was fairly bursting with curiosity. "Well? Well?" she asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

Sansa casually removed her glove and displayed the ring. It flashed brightly in the light of the cozy sitting room they were in.

"Oh my goodness," Jeyne breathed. "That is the most exquisite thing I have ever seen! How big is it?"

"I think he said six carats." She sat looking at the ring with disinterest, no longer charmed by its beauty.

"You don't seem very happy," her friend said with concern.

"I don't love him, Jenny. I'm not sure I ever will," she sighed. "You know how I want romance and passion, but it's just not there and never will be. I think I'll return the ring before the engagement is announced. It's not right that I marry him."

"Sansa, have you gone mad? Joffrey Baratheon is the most eligible bachelor in Liverpool. His family's wealth and influence rival that of some families in London!"

"What's the point of all that if I'm not happy?"

Seeing that Sansa truly wasn't happy and that it was unlikely that all of the Baratheon's family's wealth and power wouldn't change that, she gave her a hug and said, "If you truly feel in her heart that marrying Joffrey isn't the right thing to do, then you shouldn't."

"Thanks Jenny," she said returning the hug.

Later that evening, after she had put the ring back in its velvet box she went looking for her father. She found him once again in the library. She nervously entered the room and stood near his chair.

"Father, I need to talk to you."

Seeing the worried look on his daughter's face he said with concern, "Certainly my dear. Please sit down."

She eased herself into the soft leather chair and looking down at her hands, she said, "I've decided not to marry Joffrey. I don't love him Father, and I don't think I ever will."

Eddard felt the blood drain from his face. This was terrible. "Sansa, my dear, you're just nervous. It's perfectly natural. Once you get used to the idea and after the plans are under way you'll feel differently," he said trying to appear calm.

"But Father, that's it exactly. I don't feel anything. I've never felt anything for Joffrey other than a friendly fondness. I don't miss him when he's not around, I don't long to see him again. Even when he kisses me I don't feel a single butterfly flutter in my stomach. It's wrong to marry him and I'm going to return his ring."

He had hoped that he would never have to do this but it was time to tell Sansa everything. How he had dreaded this moment. "Sansa I'm so very sorry, but you have to marry Joffrey."

"Why? Surely the announcement hasn't already been made?" Seeing her father's pale and stricken face, she said, "Father, what is it?"

Unable to look her in the eye, he said, "We're broke Sansa. I...I've...gambled away almost everything we have. We don't have much left and your marriage to Joffrey is the only way to save us...you...from ruin."

He chanced a look at her, the shock and surprise in her face was almost more than he could bear, but he continued. "The night that he asked me if he could come call on you, he and I struck a sordid bargain. He offered to pay our debts if I could persuade you to allow him to call on you. I...I'm ashamed to admit it but I agreed. I felt terrible thrusting this man that you did not like upon you but it was the only way out, and he's not such a bad chap. I thought that if you just gave him a chance that you might actually like him."

Sansa sat silently, staring into the small fire glowing in the grate.

"Please dear, say something."

After a moment she said quietly, "You mean we're practically destitute and I must marry Joffrey? He paid our debts?"

Close to tears, Eddard answered in an equally quiet voice, "Yes."

"What would happen if I refused him? Would he demand that we repay him? Was it part of the...bargain...that I marry him?"

Eddard was thankful that she didn't use the word bargain with anger or disgust. "No, he did not mention that. However, dear, we can't go on for much longer the way we are."

"Can't we cut back? I don't need new dresses this season and we don't need this big house. We could sell it and move into a smaller place, with only a few servants."

Eddard put his head in his hands. "Oh my dear, how I wish that were possible." Looking up at her, she saw the tears in his eyes and finally realized just how dire the situation was.

She whispered, "I must marry him?"

Once again unable to meet her gaze, he hung his head and nodded. "Please Sansa, don't hate me. I'm so sorry that I've brought you to this. I've been so stupid and foolish." With that he finally did break down and began sobbing.

She moved to her father's chair and kneeling, she wrapped her arms around him. "I could never hate you Father," she said tenderly. "Joffrey isn't so bad. I could do worse. I was only childishly hoping for a more exciting romance. Joffrey will make a fine husband and I'm sure I'll be very happy with him," she said, not really believing it but hoping to make him feel better.

"I'm so sorry Sansa, so sorry," he said, looking up at her. "I know how much you wanted to marry for love."

"Love is for fairytales. Joffrey is a good and honorable man and everything will be just fine."

She met Jeyne in town for lunch a few days later. She was surprised when Sansa removed her gloves to see the ring still on her finger. "You're still wearing the ring? I thought you were going to break off the engagement," she asked.

"I'm not breaking the engagement," she replied not looking at Jeyne.

Looking at her friend she said, "What is going on? Something has happened. What is it?"

Looking around to make sure no one was near, Sansa leaned across the table and said quietly, "Even though I don't love him, the situation demands that I must marry him."

Jeyne’s eyes widened and with a shocked whisper she said, "Sansa, you didn't? Are you...?"

Realizing that Jeyne thought she was expecting, she retorted, "No, you silly goose." In quiet whispers she told her everything her father had said. By the end of it Jeyne was aghast.

"He struck a bargain with him? With you as the prize?"

"I understand why he did it, Jenny. He saw an opportunity to get back on his feet and the terms weren't so disagreeable. He said he felt dreadful forcing me to see Joffrey when I didn't like him, but he hoped that I would change my mind. Which I have. He's not so bad," She said forcing a smile and some cheer into her voice. "So the heavens won't part and the angels won't sing. Who's to say it ever would have happened? Things are settled and I'm going to marry Joffrey." She again looked down at the flashing ring on her finger.

"Well, if you're happy, then I'm happy for you," Jeyne said cheerfully. "We had better start planning. When will it be?"

"Judging from how Father described our situation, the sooner the better. Perhaps the end of July. Does that give us enough time?"

"But it's April now. That's less than four months! We had better get started!"

"What shall we do first?"

"Why your gown of course! Your engagement ring is in the style of what women on the continent are wearing and so your dress shall be as well. A beautiful confection of lace, satin, silk, and velvet."

Sansa made a face. "That sounds awfully fussy. Can't it just be lace and silk without the satin and velvet?"

"Let's go to the dressmaker right now and choose fabrics."

Sansa got caught up in a whirl of plans and decisions. She had no idea that a society wedding would be so complicated. The Baratheon family was planning a lavish ball the day of the wedding to celebrate. She would need several gowns just to get through the day. There was also her trousseau to order and have made. She was so busy she hardly had any time to fret about her lack of feelings for her future husband.


	5. Chapter 5

A month later she received a note from the dressmaker informing her that there was a problem with one of her gowns and she needed to come to the shop right away. A fabric that had been ordered was not going to be available and she needed to choose something else. Her father was also going into town so she went with him with the intention of hiring a cab to bring her back home. The wind was coming up as the carriage was brought around to the front of the house.

Catching a flash of her engagement ring as she pulled on her gloves, he said, "Perhaps if you are going into town unaccompanied you should leave that here. If you are alone some unsavory character may see it and try to take it from you."

She agreed and quickly ran upstairs and placed the ring back in its velvet box.

"You best be quick at the dress shop, dear. It looks like a storm is coming in," Eddard said as he helped his daughter into the carriage.

It was already beginning to rain heavily when she was dropped off at the dressmakers. She pulled up her hood and held the cape tightly about herself as she rushed from the carriage into the shop.

The alternate choices of fabric were laid out before her and she was trying to make a decision quickly for she could see through the window that the wind was getting stronger and the storm was gaining in strength. She quickly chose a beautiful watered silk in light mauve and asked if a cab could be arranged.

The dressmaker sent the boy who worked in the stock room out to find her one. After twenty minutes he arrived back, soaked to the skin, and announced that due to the weather he couldn't find a single available cab. The dressmaker sent him into the back to warm himself by the stove. "My father had a meeting a few streets over, I'll go over there and return home with him," she said to the dressmaker.

"Are you sure you should go out there, miss? You'll be soaked and you'll probably ruin your slippers."

"I can stand getting a little wet and I wore these ones today specifically because I wouldn't care if they got ruined by the rain. Don't worry, I'll be fine," she said pulling up her hood.

She stepped out of the shop and was stunned at how hard and cold the rain was. The wind whipped her cloak about her and blew her hood off. She tried to see through the rain but the storm was much worse than she had thought. She stumbled down the street, trying to reach the offices where her father was.

Her hair had blown in her face and she was having a great deal of trouble seeing and suddenly realized that she had missed the corner where she should have turned. She tried to go over a block and back but lost her sense of direction and made another wrong turn and couldn't figure out how to get back to where she wanted to be.

She could barely see more than a few feet in front of her. With fear swelling in her breast she turned round and round desperately trying to see through the rain and the hair in her face. She didn't recognize any of the buildings around her and had no idea where she was. She continued to blindly stumble down the street and almost fell more than once.

She didn't know where she was going or even if she was headed in the right direction. Here eyes filled with tears causing her vision to blur even more. She tried to clutch her soaking cloak about her but it offered little comfort. She was soaked to the skin and trembling with the cold, her fear threatening to turn to terror when suddenly a small but luxurious carriage was beside her. The door was flung open and a voice inside shouted at her to get in. Without thinking twice she gratefully climbed inside.

She sat down heavily on the lushly upholstered seat and was attempting to pull her hair out of her face. She was in such a state that she could not even see the other inhabitant of the coach. "Thank you so much for your assistance," she said breathlessly. "I didn't realize the storm was so..." she trailed off as she stared into the grey eyes of the man sitting opposite her.

"Why Miss Stark, I didn't even recognize you. What are you doing out on the streets in such wicked weather?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Clegane," she replied in what she hoped was a cool voice. "I was attempting to meet my father so that he could escort me home, but I had underestimated the strength of the storm. Thank you for your assistance." She was soaked through and began to shiver.

Sandor picked up a blanket that was on the seat next to him. He moved across the small space and sat next to Sansa, draping the blanket about her shoulders. "You're cold," he said simply.

Having him so close to her set her pulse to racing and her breath became uneven. "Th-th-thank you," she managed to stammer, partly from the cold and partly because his close proximity unsettled her so. What was it about this man that did this to her?

She was suddenly aware that it was quite improper for her to be alone in a carriage with him. However, under the circumstances it was understandable. She asked him to take her just the few blocks to her father's meeting but he refused.

"You're soaked, you need to go home and get out of those wet clothes. Now where do you live?"

She gave him the address and he stood to relay the information to the driver. He was so tall he had to stoop when standing in the carriage. He then returned to his original seat across from her.

She clutched the blanket about her but was still shivering.

"Why don't you remove your cloak? You'll dry off faster that way," he rasped, rising once again and sitting next to her. He removed the blanket from her shoulders and assisted with removing her cloak. Sansa thought she might faint from having him help her do something so similar to disrobing even if was just her cloak. He laid the drenched garment on the bench across from them. Her gown was plastered to her body and she noted that his eyes took in every detail. Even though she was still shivering she began to feel very warm.

"Could I have the blanket back please?" she asked quietly, not daring to look at him.

Without answering, he draped it around her shoulders but his arm lingered across her back. He gently pulled her tangled hair out from under the blanket and smoothed it back from her face. "Do you feel any better?" 

She looked up at him and saw the heat in his eyes. She quickly looked away and replied with a shaky voice, "Yes, thank you."

"I hope you don't mind, but I inadvertently placed your wet cloak on the other bench and as that seat is now most likely soaked, I will have to sit next to you for the remainder of the journey," he said removing a damp tendril of hair from her face.

Sansa's heart was pounding so fast she again thought she might faint. He's just a man she thought. Just like Joffrey. So, why am I reacting this way? Why am I so hot and yet so cold at the same time? Sandor was sitting slightly sideways on the seat with his arm across the back of it, looking at her.

"Why are you staring at me Mr. Clegane? Am I such a sight?"

Smoothing her hair again he said softly, "Yes, you are quite a sight."

Suddenly the carriage jolted and dipped sharply to one side throwing Sansa right into Sandor's arms. Her face was pressed against his neck and he had his arms around her. She had instinctively put out her hands to brace herself and they had fallen onto his thighs. It didn't register right away where her hands were and as she breathed in the dark earthy scent of him she squeezed her hands.

Sandor, also overcome by having her once again so close to him, just held her to him, not daring to speak, not wanting to break the spell. But when her hands squeezed his thighs, the sudden heat in his loins told him he had to get her off of him.

Gently pushing her back, just far enough so that he could see her face, he asked, "Are you all right?"

With his face only inches from hers and her head swimming from being so close to him she didn't trust her voice. She nodded wordlessly and just stared into his dark eyes, so full of secrets. It was the first time she was able to get a good look at his burns. The skin was twisted and leathery. She was so lost in the injury, he caught her starring. He turned away self consciously.  
"I--I'm sorry." She breathed.  
He let out a small smile, but Sansa could tell she hit a nerve. She didn't know what to say, and they both ignored it. The carriage was still tilting sharply to one side. Sandor pushed her up further and said, "I should check what's wrong with the carriage. If you could be so kind as to remove your hands from my thighs."

She looked down at her hands and snatched them away as if he were suddenly on fire. "I'm so sorry," she gasped.

He rose and placing a finger under her chin he tipped her face up to his. "I'm not." He flashed her a wicked grin, making his scars twist, as he pulled his own cloak about him and stepped from the carriage.

She looked out the window and saw that one of the two wheels of the carriage was broken. It appeared to have struck a large rock that was hidden by the muddy streets. The driver of the carriage was unharnessing one of the horses as Sandor climbed back into the carriage.

Sansa was attempting to sit properly on the upper end of the slanting bench and keep the blanket wrapped around her. Sandor sat sideways next to her, his back resting against the lower side wall of the cab. "We've broken a wheel and the driver is riding home to fetch another carriage. Until then, we are stuck here." He watched her with some amusement as she struggled to remain on her end of the seat. "I won't tell anyone if you would prefer to lean against me instead of struggling to sit upright," he said invitingly.

"First of all Mr. Clegane, it is the height of impropriety that I am sitting in a carriage with you at all without a chaperone, and now without even the driver present. To lean against you is unspeakable," she said haughtily.

"Come, come my dear. You are clearly uncomfortable, you're also wet and cold. You should just come here and rest and keep warm."

He certainly was warm as she had noticed before when she had been thrown against him. And after her struggles out in the storm she was tired. But what he was suggesting was impossible.

"Perhaps if we just switched ends. You could sit up here and I down there," she suggested.

"But then Miss Stark, I would want to rest against you," he said with a grin and a glint in his eye.

She looked over at the wet bench across from them. She was just beginning to dry off and she didn't want to sit on the wet bench. She looked at Sandor again and thought I must be developing a fever or going mad to even consider this. Before she knew it she was saying, "Do you promise not to tell anyone and to not molest me in any way?"

"I already promised not to tell anyone," he said.

"What about molesting me? Can I trust you?" she asked warily.

"To molest you? Oh, I most certainly can do that," he replied wickedly.

Sansa shot him a look, and he turned away and laughed. "I can only promise to try. I am a man of strong will, my sweet, and you are very tempting."

"Please try to restrain yourself," she said coldly as she held out her hand so that he could assist her. She managed to twist around and lean her back against him and keep the blanket around her.

Gently rubbing the wool against her upper arms he said into her ear, "There now, isn't this better?" Sansa wasn't sure if it was the cold, or his deep voice that sent goose pimples along her arms.

She had to admit it was more comfortable than struggling on the other end of the pitched seat and he was rather warm. "How long will it be before the driver gets back?" she asked.

"Oh, I should think it will take at least an hour. Horses will need to be prepared for the other carriage plus with the weather it will take longer than usual."

He wrapped his arms around her, clasping his hands in front. This sent a flurry of butterflies swirling in her stomach. "Could you please lower your arms, Mr. Clegane?" she said, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Ah yes, if I remember correctly, you don't much like having my arms around you," he said teasingly, referring to their two previous encounters. He lowered his arms and placed one arm along the back of the seat and the other hand on the bench next to her.

With the drumming of the rain on the roof of the carriage and leaning against his warm chest, Sansa soon drifted off to sleep.

Sandor looked down at her as she lay sleeping against his chest. He gently smoothed back a loose curl from her forehead. Even soaking wet she was breathtakingly lovely. He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled her scent. She smelled fresh and sweet.

Her hair was beginning to dry and curly red tendrils were spread all around him. He knew he shouldn't, she would most likely be furious if she awoke, but he wrapped his arms around her again. He had told his driver to take his time returning with another coach. He wanted as much time alone as possible with this lovely young woman. He didn't know much more about her other than her name and that she had a fiery temperament, but somehow she had captured his heart. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

When he had first seen someone struggling down the street he knew he should stop but when he saw that mane of fiery red hair escape the hood of her cloak he immediately ordered the driver to stop. Being in the right place to rescue her was indeed a stroke of luck.

Gently he pulled the blanket away from her, his eyes scanning her body, fully revealed by the sodden dress still clinging to her. Very softly he ran his hands across her shoulders to rest on her upper arms. Looking down over her shoulder, he very gently trailed his fingers across the upper part of her breasts, surprising himself with how much he enjoyed this illicit touching.

His fingers rose and undid a few of the buttons at the neck of her bodice. Feeling emboldened by her continued slumber, he undid a few more until he glimpsed a swell of breast through the opening. He opened another couple of buttons until the top of her corset came into view. Spreading the fabric, he lustily gazed at her exposed flesh, gently rising and falling with her soft breaths.

Catching himself and knowing how she would react were she to awake and find herself in such a revealing state, he reluctantly began to do the buttons up again. He only had a few more to go when suddenly a bolt of lightning forked down from the sky with a loud crack followed by a rolling boom of thunder. Sansa started awake, frightened by the sounds. She clutched Sandor's arms tightly. "What was that?" she asked in a scared voice.

"Just a bolt of lightning and then thunder," he said soothingly into her ear. "Nothing to be frightened of."

She held his arms tightly around her, and again started as another bolt of lightening lit the grey skies. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed as the thunder boomed.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of thunder and lightning," he said. How lucky he had been to fasten her dress when he did, he thought to himself. Although, she was so frightened by the sounds of the storm that she most likely wouldn't notice right away.

"The noises are just so loud and seem so close," she replied.

"Well, you're safe here with me," he said reassuringly. "How about to take your mind off the storm, why don't you tell me what you were doing in town?"

She hesitated and then relaxing slightly, she said, "I was at the dressmakers, choosing fabric for a gown."

"You ventured out into this weather for that?"

"It's a special gown, for an upcoming ball." She knew at this point that she should tell him about Joffrey but for some reason she didn't. "The original fabric I had chosen is no longer available, so I had to choose something else."

"And what did you choose?" he asked, again stroking the hair back from her face.

His touch on her temple was so unexpected, she felt as though one of those lightning bolts shot right through her. She closed her eyes and sighed as she felt his hands lightly stroking her hair. She had thoroughly forgotten that he had asked her a question until he repeated it. "Well? What did you choose?"

"Choose? Oh, the fabric. A watered silk in light mauve."

He let out a hoarse chuckle at her confusion. He liked that he was able to distract her. Another bolt of lighting cracked through the sky and she let out a small cry as she clutched again at Sandors arms. "You're as frightened as a little bird." He laughed. "It's alright," he murmured in her ear as she shuddered at the boom of the following thunder. Trying to distract her he said, "I'm sure you'll look absolutely delectable in that gown," he whispered softly in her ear.

His seductively whispered compliment sent a shiver down her spine. She once again found her breath quickening. "Thank you," she said softly.

"All the men at that ball will be dying to dance with you. You probably won't have a moment's rest."

She guiltily thought of Joffrey and how since the ball was to celebrate their wedding, she most likely wouldn't dance with any of the eligible bachelors. "Oh I don't know about that," she said. "Jeyne usually gets all the attention at balls and dances."

"Jeyne?" He questioned.

"Yes, Jeyne Poole. I was with her the first time we...met," she said.

He dimly recalled a dark haired young woman with Sansa that day. With Sansa completely capturing his attention he had hardly noticed her. "Oh yes, I remember now. I can't believe she outshines you. I barely noticed her."

"Well, if she had been the one in need of assistance, you probably wouldn't have noticed me."

Once again whispering softly in her ear he said, "I'm not so sure about that. You're a very beautiful young woman."

With his breath once again tickling her ear, her breath caught in her throat. Sandor silently chuckled to himself. Yes, he was very pleased that he could have this affect on her. He gently pulled the blanket down off her shoulders and pushing the hair away from her neck he said softly, "Very hard not to notice." His breath tickled the side of her neck, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

He trailed a finger down the side of her throat and heard her suck in a shaky breath. Struggling for composure she said, "Please, Mr. Clegane, you promised to behave."

"I only promised to try," he continued in the same seductive tone. "But I'm afraid, Miss Stark, that I've been overwhelmed by your charms." With that he gently placed a kiss on her neck.

At the touch of his lips, she gasped loudly. The butterflies in her stomach tripled in size and a tingling sensation radiated out from where he had kissed her. He wound his fingers in her hair, holding her head to him and kissed her neck again. She clutched at his arms, knowing that she should demand that he stop but also not wanting him to. He kissed her throat again and this time she felt his tongue gently touch her flesh. Against her will, a small moan escaped her lips.

Encouraged by her reaction, he boldly slid the tip of his tongue down the entire length of her throat. Sansa's mind was in a whirl. She forgot where she was, she forgot about Joffrey and the betrayal that she was committing. Sandor nibbled on her ear lobe and she softly moaned again.

He shifted in his seat and tipping her face up to his he gently pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him, surrendering to the feelings that were fluttering wildly through her. Her body pressed against his as her inexperienced lips submitted to his, letting him kiss her with a passion that sent her senses spinning. Tenderly, his lips urged hers open and his tongue gently outlined her lips. Her eyes flew open as she suddenly realized that things had gone too far. She pushed at his chest and tried to pull her head away but with his hand entwined in her hair he held her fast.

Feeling her struggles he pulled away and withdrew his hand from her hair. Sansa sat up and looked at him. She could see the passion burning in his eyes. They were the same eyes she remembered from her uneasy dreams. He reached out and touched her cheek. She shrank back. She was on the verge of falling back into his arms so that he could kiss her again and she couldn't allow that to happen. She was engaged to Joffrey she reminded herself. Yet why did she not want to tell him, this man who awoke such feelings in her, aroused her so?  
Just then they heard a carriage approaching. Sandor twisted and looking out the window he muttered a curse below his breath. Sure enough his driver was just arriving with the other cab. He had brought one of the stable boys with him and a spare wheel. The lad would fix the wheel and then drive it back. He quickly exited the carriage to save Sansa the embarrassment of the driver finding her in such a compromised position.

The other carriage pulled up near them. After a quick discussion with his driver, Sandor stuck his head back in and said to her, "It's very muddy and slippery out here. It's best if I carry you to the other carriage."

Sansa looked at him warily. "I'm sure I can manage," she said. She stepped to the edge of the cab and looked down at the thick mud still being heavily spattered by rain. She could see how deeply Sandor's boots sank into the muck and realized that he was right. She would probably lose her shoes entirely and ruin the hem of her gown.

"I guess you're right," she said. She was nervous about once again being so close to him, but with the driver and the stable boy there she was surely safe from his advances. He lifted her easily and holding her tightly to his chest he carried her around to the other carriage. The door was already open so he stepped right into the cab with her still in his arms. Without releasing her he sat down on the bench, with her in his lap.

"Please release me," she said trying to stand.

"But it was so pleasant in the other carriage I thought we could continue in this one," he said.

Struggling to get to her feet, she said, "We will not continue anything from the other carriage."

"I could have sworn you were enjoying yourself," he said softly.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

He unexpectedly complied, causing her to tumble to the floor at his feet. Trying to restrain from laughing he extended his hand to help her up. Using the bench to steady herself, she ignored his offer of assistance. She sat on the bench opposite, glaring at him.

"Why are you glaring at me? You demanded that I release you and I did so," he said with a wicked smile. He could see the fury sparking in her eyes and was once again dazzled by how beautiful she was when angry. Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes sparkled.

She ignored him and refused to speak to him until they reached her home, where she left him with a curt goodbye before sweeping inside. He sat back and chuckled, wondering how to manage seeing her again.

Sansa went straight up to her room and sat before her dressing table seething with anger. Not only at Sandor but also at herself. How could she have let him kiss her? Why didn't she tell him about Joffrey? He would most probably not have been so forward. But she didn't tell him, and she grudgingly had to admit that she thrilled at the way he made her feel. She touched her neck where he had kissed her, where he had trailed his tongue. A shiver ran down her spine. Joffrey was the only other man who had ever kissed her and he never elicited that sort of response from her. Picking up her hairbrush, she shook her head trying to rid herself of the memory. She vowed not to think of it again. Although she knew that would be impossible.

As she began to work through the mass of tangles in her long mane, she suddenly noticed the open buttons on her dress. Her hands froze, the brush above her head as she stared at them. When had that happened, she wondered. She slowly lowered her arms, staring at the opening at the base of her throat. Could Sandor have opened them? Her mind had been in such a whirl that he might have been able to.

Frantically she clutched at the fabric, pulling the buttons through their small openings. How could she have let things get so out of hand? How could she have behaved so brazenly? She stared back at herself in the mirror, looking down at the newly fastened buttons. Gently, she tugged them open again, wondering how much had been revealed.

Glancing down at the small amount of exposed flesh, she realized it really wasn't that much. Her ball gowns showed more. She undid a few more buttons until her corset came into view. Pulling the fabric apart she wondered how Sandor would have reacted to seeing her thus. She felt a shiver race down her spine, and suddenly realized how silly she was being.

Once again shaking her head, she chastised herself for fantasizing about him. She should be dreaming of what it would be like for Joffrey to see her like this. But when she spread the fabric again and thought about her fiancé looking at her, she felt nothing.

Again that night, she awoke breathless from a dream. And once again all she could remember where a pair of smoldering grey eyes, one peaking through burned flesh. Recalling that she had seen those eyes in the carriage earlier that day, this time she had an idea of what she had been dreaming about.

When Sandor arrived back at his home, he went to inspect the broken carriage. He crouched down to look at the wheel. The axle wasn't broken so a minor repair was all that was needed. As he stood, something in the carriage caught his eye. He opened the door and lifted Sansa's wet cloak off the seat. He smiled as he carried it into the house. He had a reason to see her again.

The next morning, Jeyne came by to visit. As Shae served them a late breakfast, she chattered on excitedly about the wedding plans and the upcoming ball.

Her father came in to announce that he was going into town. "Can I pick you anything up, dear?"

"No, thank you, Father," she replied.

As soon as he left, Jeyne turned to her. "What happened? You've been distracted and fidgety ever since I arrived."

Sansa had to admit that she had never been able to keep anything from Jeyne. Yet this time she tried. "I guess I'm just getting nervous about the wedding. It's coming up so soon. I won't live in this house anymore, I won't see Father at the breakfast table ever again. I probably won't even see you as much. Everything will change and all I want is for everything to be the way it was."

"But everything will be better. You can't live here with your father forever. You knew that someday you would marry and move into your husband's home," she said reassuringly.

"I know. I just thought I would be happier about it."

At that moment the butler entered the room and announced that she had a visitor.

"Who is it?" She asked the butler.

"Mr. Sandor Clegane, miss." 

Sansa sat stock still, while Jeyne's eyes widened.

"What does he want?" she whispered to the butler.

"He declined to say, miss. Would you like me to see him out?" Concern filled his voice.

"No Lionel, thank you. Show him in, please," she murmured.

Jeyne stared at Sansa wide eyed. "Why is he here? How does he know where you live? What's going on?" she urgently whispered.

"Mr. Clegane," The butler announced.

"Thank you." she whispered.

Memories of the previous day flooded her mind and unconsciously she blushed. Sandor stood in the doorway of the parlor smiling at her.

"Good morning, Miss Stark."

Recovering from her shock and collecting herself she rose to greet him and in doing so, hid her left hand and engagement ring in the folds of her skirt. "Good morning Mr. Clegane. You remember Miss Poole."

Turning to Jeyne and nodding his head he smiled at her and said, "Yes, of course. Good morning, Miss Poole."

Jeyne rose and approached Sandor, extending her hand. "Good morning Mr. Clegane," she said batting her lashes at him.

Sandor took her extended hand and bowing slightly he placed a kiss on it. She giggled and retreated back to her seat on the couch. Sandor approached Sansa and held out his hand in an invitation to her to extend her own. Looking at him with suspicious eyes she warily raised her right hand and placed it in his. Touching him set the butterflies in her belly back into motion. Without taking his eyes off hers he raised her hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss upon it. Sandor saw the spark in her eyes and stood with a smile.

She took several steps away from him and drew in a deep breath to steady herself. "What brings you here this morning?" she asked when she felt she could trust her voice.

He held up her cloak and said, "You left this in my carriage yesterday. I thought I had best return it."

Horrified that she had forgotten it, she took the cloak from him and said, "Thank you, that was very kind of you to return it."

"You left so quickly yesterday that I didn't have the chance to thank you for your lovely company."

Icily she said, "I greatly appreciated your assistance and did not wish to detain you any longer," she said by way of explanation, although they both knew the reason she had left so hastily.

Jeyne sat on the couch watching this exchange with great interest. No wonder she was acting so strangely today! She would get the whole story out of Sansa later.

"And I do not wish to detain you any longer this morning," she continued.

Before she could call for the butler to show him out, Sansa piped up, "Would you care to stay for awhile Mr. Clegane? We were just about to enjoy a late breakfast. You're more than welcome to join us."

Sansa shot her a look of pure venom, but Jeyne ignored her. Sandor, however, saw the exchange and although he wanted to stay, he felt he shouldn't push his luck and he politely declined. "Thank you for the invitation Miss Poole, but I just stopped by to return Miss Stark's cloak. I really must be going." Looking at Sansa he asked, "Could you be so kind as to show me out?"

As she brushed past him to show him to the door, Sandor tipped his hat to Jeyne and with a smile said to her, "Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Poole." Jeyne giggled and blushed.

He turned and followed Sansa. She turned to him at the door and not trusting herself to look at him she coolly said, "Thank you again for returning my cloak."

He reached out and placing a finger under her chin he tipped her head up so that she had to look at him. He looked over her shoulder down the passage and seeing that it was clear he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close. Alarmed, Sansa pushed at his arm. "Mr. Clegane!" she hissed.

Sandor quickly pushed her hair back and kissed her neck right where he had the day before. Pulling back but not releasing her he stared into her eyes. He saw a quick flash of passion and said softly, "I just wanted one more of those. And another of these." He bent his head and quickly placed a kiss on her lips.

She was too shocked to resist or to chastise him. He released her, touched the brim of his hat and departed. She stood in the open doorway staring at him as he climbed into his carriage. He waved to her through the window as it drove away.

She slowly closed the door and touching her lips she leaned back against it. She was tingling all over and felt weak in the knees. She waited a moment until she felt she could walk and went back into the parlor on unsteady legs. She sank slowly onto the sofa, still holding her fingers to her lips.

Jeyne was about to burst. "You were in his carriage yesterday? Why didn't you tell me? What happened?" Noticing her friend's utter distraction, she said, "Sansa? What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Hm?" she said, looking slightly dazed. She hadn't heard a word Jeyne had said.

Grabbing Sansa's arms she shook her lightly. "Sansa!"

Seeming to snap out of her haze she looked into Jeyne's eager and excited face. "Tell me everything!" she demanded with a large smile.

"Really, Jeyne there's nothing to tell. I had to go to the dressmaker's yesterday. Can you believe it? They ran out of the fabric I had chosen for my ball gown, so I had to go and choose another. Father had a meeting in town so I went with him with the intention of hiring a cab to come home in. Well, the storm got so bad that I was unable to hire one so I tried to walk the three blocks to where Father's meeting was. However, the storm was much worse than I thought. I became lost and was struggling down the street when Mr. Clegane so very kindly rescued me and brought me home," she said quickly, without looking Jeyne in the eye.

Knowing that she was leaving something out, Jeyne asked, "Why was your cloak in his carriage?"

"I was soaked right through and I began to shiver so I took it off in an attempt to dry off faster. And Mr. Clegane was kind enough to offer me a blanket to ease my shivering." She still was unable to look at Jeyne.

"And...? There's more, I can tell."

"Really, Jenny, your imagination runs away with you sometimes," she said nervously.

"Alright, enough about yesterday. Why were you touching your lips when you came back in here? Why were you so dazed? Why were you so unsteady on your feet?"

Nothing gets past her, Sansa thought. "I...I...was just so surprised to see him here, is all," she stammered.

"Uh huh," she replied skeptically. Seizing upon a thought, she said eagerly, "He kissed you didn't he? That's why you had your hand to your lips!"

Seeing Sansa's sudden, deep blush, she laughed and clapped her hands. "This is just too wickedly delicious!" she declared.

"It is not at all delicious," she declared with distress. "I'm engaged! And yes, he just kissed me. If Joffrey finds out he could refuse to marry me. I would be disgraced and then what shall I do? Must I remind you of why I have to marry Joffrey?"

"No, you do not, and he's not going to find out. I certainly won't tell him. It was just one kiss and I'm sure you didn't ask him for it. You are not to blame," she replied, suddenly sympathetic.

Unable to keep up the pretence any longer, she suddenly confessed all to Jeyne. "Oh Jenny, that's not all!" she wailed. "Much more happened in the carriage yesterday. It's too disgraceful to describe."

Titillated by this outburst Jeyne eagerly said, "Go ahead and try."

"Well, the carriage wheel broke, so Mr. Clegane sent the driver back to fetch another carriage. The one we were in was small and had only had two wheels so it was on quite an angle. My drenched cloak was on one seat and as that bench was soaked, we both had to sit on the same bench except that the pitch was so steep. I was on the high end and was having great difficulty sitting there. Mr. Clegane promised not to tell anyone and to try to behave himself if I wished to rest against him. I don't know what I was thinking, I was tired from my struggle in the storm I guess, but I turned and lay back against him." She said the last part quietly, staring at her hands in her lap. Her engagement ring flashed as she twisted her hands.

"The rain was drumming on the roof of the carriage and he was so warm, before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. Then lightening and thunder woke me. You know how frightened I am of lightening and thunder. He had his arms around me but I didn't care I was so scared. He then began stroking my hair and whispering in my ear, telling me that I'm so beautiful and before I knew it he was...he was...," she was so embarrassed she couldn't continue.

Jeyne urged her, "He was what? What?"

Taking a deep, shaky breath she said, "He was kissing my neck."

Jeyne fell back against the couch with a deep sigh.

Closing her eyes, she continued, "And licking it..."

Jeyne bolted upright. "Licking? He licked your neck? Sansa!" she exclaimed with delight. "What did you do?"

With a wince, she admitted, "Closed my eyes and moaned a little."

With a gasp Jeyne said, "You didn't! What happened next?"

She nervously licked her lips and said, "He kissed me."

"Kissed you?" she asked incredulous. "Then what?"

"Well, I came to my senses and pulled back. It was then that the other carriage arrived."

"Ooh," Jeyne said, upset that someone had interrupted them.

"It was so muddy out that he had to carry me to the other carriage. He lifted me up and carried me right inside and sat down with me still in his arms. I had to struggle to get free. And then he dumped me right on the floor! Can you believe it?"

Jeyne stifled a giggle. "Maybe he wanted more of what was happening in the other carriage," she suggested.

"That's exactly what he wanted! He even said so!"

Jeyne couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing.

"It's not funny, Jenny," she admonished but was beginning to see the humor in the situation. "You cannot tell a soul about this," she said sternly.

"My lips are sealed," she replied still laughing. Struck with a thought she sat up. "Did you not tell him that you're engaged?"

When Sansa just looked down at her hands and didn't reply, Jeyne said in an awed whisper, "You didn't tell him! Why didn't you tell him?"

"I don't know. I kept telling myself that I should, but for some reason I didn't."

"I knew it! You're in love with him!" Jeyne said triumphantly.

Sansa sighed and fell back on the couch "I can't stop thinking about him. Ever since that first time we met him, when he stopped me from falling. I find myself suddenly thinking about him, I dream about him, I don't know how to get him out of my head."

Softly Jeyne said, "I don't think he's in your head Sansa. He's in your heart."

Sansa closed her eyes and groaned with dismay.

Sandor couldn't help chuckling to himself as he drove away from Sansa's. He knew his behavior had been utterly disgraceful but when he was around her he just couldn't help himself. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He would have loved to have stayed for breakfast but he knew she was furious with him and he didn't want to test her any further. Plus he had no idea how long her father would be gone. He had waited outside hoping for a chance to catch her alone. He had seen Jeyne go in earlier and he figured that that would be his best option. Getting her alone by the door was a stroke of luck and an opportunity he could not pass up. He hadn't meant to kiss her on the mouth but when he had looked into her eyes after kissing her neck, the spark of passion that he had seen there spurred him on. He had no idea how to get this intoxicating woman out of his system, or how he was going to see her again.


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa looked through every glove in the mercantile and could not find a pair in gray kid in her size.

"Jenny, I'm going to go up to the counter and ask if they have any more of the gloves I want in stock."

Jeyne nodded as she perched a bonnet on her head. She was settling it on her dark curls when a deep voice behind her complimented her, "Why Miss Poole, you look quite fetching in that bonnet."

She turned to thank the man to find Sandor standing behind her. Playing with the bow beneath her chin and cocking her head she said, "Why thank you Mr. Clegane. Do you think I should buy it?"

"If it strikes your fancy, I think you should."

"I think I shall, but only because it strikes your fancy," she flirted. She saw him looking about and guessing his quest she said, "She's over at the front counter."

Taken aback that he was being so obvious he asked, "Who?"

With a knowing smile, she replied, "Sansa." Seeing his look of surprise, she continued. "Come now, Mr. Clegane, you should know that best friends tell each other everything. I know how smitten you are with her."

"Not smitten," he said, the word trailing awkwardly off his tongue, "just very, very intrigued."

Turning to face the mirror and adjusting the bonnet she asked conversationally, "Are you going to the Summer Ball at the Jacobson's? Sansa and I are both very excited about it."

"You're both going?" he asked, with great interest, his scars twisted with his grin. Jeyne didn't seem at all bothered by it.

"Yes, we are. We wouldn't miss it. I don't think I've ever seen you at any of the social events. Do you not enjoy balls and parties?"

"Yes, of course, I'm just out of town a lot on business. But I will be attending this one. Most definitely."

"Well, I'll be sure to save a dance for you, then."

Smiling at her he said, "You do that, Miss Poole, and please ask Miss Stark to do the same. Now, I really must be going. It was a pleasure running into you. Good afternoon."

"Thank you, Mr. Clegane, it was delightful chatting with you. Good afternoon."

She walked over to where Sansa was standing at the counter, looking through a stack of gloves. "I just had the most pleasant conversation."

Distracted by the gloves she asked, "Who with?"

Watching for her reaction, she said, "Mr. Clegane."

Sansa gripped the glove she was holding. "He's here?" she asked, not looking up.

Nodding towards the door, Jeyne said, "He's just leaving."

Sansa turned towards the door just in time to see him pass through it.

"Don't worry, he's going to be at the Summer Ball. He asked me to request that you save him a dance."

"I'm not worried," she said with studied indifference, releasing her hold on the glove in her hand. "And I have no intention of dancing with him. I don't even care that he'll be attending the ball."

"Of course you don't. I was just repeating his request," she said with a sly smile.

"Suck in your breath just a little more Miss Jeyne." Jeyne's maid Maggie pulled on the lacings of her corset one more time before tying them. Jeyne was determined to have the smallest waist at the party.

Trying to suppress her laughter, Sansa asked, "Jenny, can you even breath?"

"Sure I can, just not deeply," she replied. "Maggie can you please help me with my gown?"

It was two days later and the girls were getting ready for the Summer Ball held annually by the Jacobson's, the wealthiest family in town. It was always a grand event and everyone was invited. Sansa wore a simple yet elegant gown of dark green silk with short puffed sleeves and a modestly low cut bodice. The dark green of the dress set off her porcelain complexion and matched her eyes.

As Jeyne's maid fastened her dress Sansa was startled to see how low cut the bodice was. "My goodness, Jeyne," she gasped in shock. "Practically your entire bosom is exposed! You can't wear that!"

Jeyne twirled about in the brilliant sapphire blue gown, trimmed with an abundance of cream colored lace. "I know, isn't it daring?" she giggled. "You could be a bit more daring yourself." She pulled the short puffed sleeves of Sansa's dress from her shoulders down to the tops of her arms. "That's much better. We're women, not chaste little girls anymore."

"You really are terrible," she chastised, with a laugh. She looked at herself in the mirror and decided that maybe she did look a little more grown up with the sleeves down.

Maggie added the final touches to Jeyne's elaborate hairdo while Sansa pulled on her elbow length gloves. The girls found their wraps and made their way downstairs.

Joffrey and Sansa's father were waiting for them in the sitting room. The two men stood as the girls came down the stairs. Joffrey remarked, "I say, it takes you two forever to get ready." His eyes widened as he stared at the two of them. "But upon seeing the results, it was worth the wait, although Miss Jeyne you might catch cold in that dress," he chided as he gallantly kissed her hand. He turned to Sansa. "And you, my darling, are a vision of loveliness," he declared as he kissed her on the cheek. He held out his elbow for Sansa while her father offered his arm to Jeyne. "What do you say, Mr. Stark? Are we not the luckiest men in Liverpool, to be escorting two such lovely ladies?" His carriage was ready and waiting and the girls climbed in looking forward to a grand and wonderful evening.

There was a long line of carriages outside the Jacobson's mansion when they arrived. The wait until they got to the door was frustrating. "Why can't we just hop out now? The butler at the door will tell the driver where to take the carriage. We don't need to stay in here until then." Jeyne was anxious to get inside. She loved balls and dancing and flirting will all the men.

"I'm sure it will only be a few more minutes Jenny," Sansa said. She was nervous about the ball. Ever since Jeyne had mentioned that Sandor was going to be there, she hated to admit it, but she was excited about the prospect of seeing him again. She felt a tingle in her belly just from thinking about him but it was soon followed by a stab of guilt. What was wrong with her, she wondered. She shouldn't be excited about seeing another man when her fiancé was sitting directly across from her. She tried to banish him from her mind but when she caught a glimpse of a tall dark haired man alighting from a carriage ahead of theirs she couldn't help but feel her heart leap. He turned to assist a woman emerging behind him and when she realized that it wasn't Sandor she was angry with herself when she felt a tinge of disappointment.

A few minutes later they alighted from their carriage and entered the house. A butler escorted them to the ballroom, indicated to them where the hostess was and retreated. Both girls gazed in wonder when they saw the sumptuous decorations. The room was overflowing with flowers and along with the elaborate chandeliers, there must have been a hundred silver candelabras lighting the room. A large orchestra filled one corner. There were already quite a few couples dancing and enjoying themselves. They found their way to Mrs. Jacobson.

"Mrs. Jacobson, the ball looks to be another tremendous success, thank you for inviting us," Sansa said to their hostess.

"Oh yes, thank you ever so," Jeyne chimed in.

"You're very welcome ladies. You both look lovely. Your gown especially, Miss Poole is particularly...eye catching." Mrs. Jacobson eyed Jeyne's dress disapprovingly and said under her breath, "What there is of it."

She turned to Sansa's father, extending her hand. "Mr. Stark, how pleasant to see you again."

Turning to Joffrey, she echoed the sentiment. Joffrey took the older woman's hand and kissed it. "Thank you as well for the invitation. We're honored to attend."

"Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy the evening. Ladies." With that she turned to greet the next set of newcomers.

They walked around the ballroom, nodding to acquaintances, and chatting with friends. Joffrey and Mr. Stark began a very earnest conversation with another man also involved in the cotton industry while the two girls continued to see who else was in attendance. Jeyne suddenly gripped Sansa's arm. "Sansa, look!" she said discreetly pointing across the room. "It's your Mr. Clegane. He did come. And he appears to be alone."

Sansa turned to look where Jeyne was pointing and there he was speaking with Mrs. Jacobson. He must have just arrived. She felt a quick rush of warmth as she saw him chatting with her. His dark hair carefully parted to the side, trying to hide his burns, and tied back with a ribbon. He looked so handsome in his black formal suit. His scars twisted in a smile, as he laughed at something Mrs. Jacobson had said to him.

"Oh, Sansa, I think he's even more handsome than before. Just look at him!" Jeyne whispered to her.

"All men look handsome in evening dress, Jenny," she replied trying to quell the tingling she felt.

She continued to stare as he dipped his dark head over the older woman's proffered hand.

"Let's go back to Father and Joffrey. I don't want Mr. Clegane to see us. I don't care to speak with him."

Jeyne cast Sansa a knowing look.

Flushing at the memory of her last encounters with him, she stiffly said, "Don't look at me like that. I would just rather resist any temptation."

As Sandor stood up from kissing Mrs. Jacobson's hand he caught a glimpse of Sansa as she turned and headed away from him. He quickly finished his conversation with the hostess before heading in that direction, hoping to steal a dance with the woman who had lured him to this party.

Sansa and Jeyne rejoined the men just as they were finishing their conversation. "Sorry, that took so long ladies," Joffrey apologized, not even realizing that they had been gone.

A young gentleman approached Jeyne and eagerly asked her to dance. She cheerfully accepted and twirled out onto the dance floor.

"I suspect that is the last we'll see of her for the evening," Sansa laughingly said. "Come on Joffrey, let's dance as well. You don't mind, do you, Father?

"Only if I get the next one," he replied and she and Joffrey twirled out onto the dance floor. Joffrey was a passable dancer, he knew the steps but didn't really put any life into it. Sansa wished he would hold her a little closer, show a little passion, but instead his eyes were looking everywhere but at her. "Are you looking for someone Joffrey?" she teased him.

Turning his gaze to her, he replied, "I was just curious to see who else was here."

The dance ended and just moments after the next one began, Jeyne floated by in the arms of a different gentlemen. She was giggling and batting her eyelashes.

Joffrey thought she was a silly girl who usually made a spectacle of herself, and said so again as she passed by.

"Oh Joffrey, she's just having fun. There's no harm."

"I suppose not. Oh, there's old Barrington. I really must go and say hello." He danced her back over to her father and then disappeared into the crowd to greet his old college friend.

"May I have this dance?" her father asked with exaggerated politeness.

"Certainly sir," Sansa replied, imitating her father's playful seriousness.

She enjoyed dancing with her father. He was light on his feet and he could always make her laugh. She remembered him trying to teach her to dance as a little girl. Memories of them dancing in the music room of their house, she standing on his feet as her mother looked on while playing the piano, flickered through her mind.

Sandor stood on the sidelines watching Sansa dance with her father. He was once again captivated by how lovely and graceful she was. How her eyes sparkled when her father made her laugh. He also recalled how her eyes usually flashed with anger whenever he was around. He admitted that, even though he had tried, he had been unsuccessful in forgetting her. He normally would not attend an affair such as this but knowing that she would be here, he hadn't been able to stay away.

Eddard begged Sansa for a rest after two dances. "Have mercy on an old man, my dear. I'm afraid I'm not able to dance the night away as I once could. Go find Jeyne or Joffrey and enjoy yourself. I see some old friends that I can entertain myself with. Go off and have fun."

Sansa kissed him on the cheek and he ambled off to his colleagues. She glanced about for Joffrey but couldn't see him anywhere. She was adjusting the top of one of her gloves when a raspy, deep voice in her ear made her jump. "Good evening Miss Stark You're looking ravishing this evening." She turned to thank the gentleman for his compliment only to find herself facing Sandor Clegane. He had seen her father leave and took the opportunity to approach her.

"Thank you Mr. Clegane," she said coldly, even though she began to blush as she recalled their hour in his carriage. Sandor noticed her coloring and couldn't help but smile, correctly guessing the cause of it.

The band started playing a waltz. "May I have this dance?" he asked, and before she could answer he swept her onto the dance floor.

Tightly wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him, pressing her body against his. A warm tingling began in her belly when she felt his thighs brush against hers as they moved about the floor. Even through the layers of fabric that separated them she could feel the heat of his body. His grey eyes burned into hers causing the warmth in her belly to spread, flowing through her limbs.

"Mr. Clegane, please," she pleaded breathlessly as she tried to put some space between them. The heat in her veins was causing her breath to become uneven and her thoughts disjointed and she was struggling to keep a clear head.

He laughed at her efforts and relaxed his hold a little. With the few inches of space he granted her Sansa was able to calm herself. She was able to notice how gracefully and effortlessly Sandor glided around the dance floor. "You're a very good dancer, Mr. Clegane," she said stiffly

"Why thank you, Miss Stark. How kind of you to say so."

Sansa was trying to avoid his eyes but the slight mocking tone of his comment caused her to look up. She was immediately drawn into his gaze and before she knew it the space between them was gone again. She felt like she was floating and was oblivious to everything around them as she stared into his stormy eyes. As she was drawn into their depths she once again felt the heat of him, warming her own blood, causing her to relax in his arms, almost melting beneath his touch. Her breathing quickened and she unconsciously bit her lip.

Another couple bumped into them, jostling her, causing her to tear her eyes away from his and the spell was broken. Suddenly acutely aware of how he was holding her, and purposefully avoiding his captivating eyes, she again attempted to move away from him. However, this time he refused to relax his hold on her.

"I saw your friend, Miss Poole, earlier. She seems to be attracting quite a bit of attention from the single gentlemen here tonight."

Unsettled by his closeness she distractedly said, "Yes, she always has more than her share of admirers."

"And where are your admirers, Miss Stark?"

"Oh, I don't attract admirers like Jeyne does." She was still struggling for some space between them. "Mr. Clegane, a little distance, if you please."

Sandor chuckled. "I'm afraid that would not please me at all." Lowering his voice he said into her ear, "I rather like having you this close."

She looked up into his eyes and saw the way they burned into hers. Struggling to maintain her composure she retorted, "It is quite improper for you to be holding me this close."

"I don't care," he replied. "You're far too delightful to hold at a distance." With that he held her even tighter as they continued to twirl about the floor.

The waltz ended, and she firmly pushed herself out of Sandor's embrace. "Thank you for the dance Mr. Clegane," she said shakily. "Good evening." She turned to walk away but he swiftly took her hand and bowed over it.

Looking up at her he said seductively, "The pleasure was all mine." He straightened without taking his eyes off of hers. "May I have the pleasure of another dance later this evening?"

Angered at how quickly he was able to unsettle her she snatched her hand back and said hotly, "With the behavior you have displayed this evening, you expect me to accept another dance from you? Well, you are sadly mistaken." Sansa turned on her heel and stalked away.

Sandor chuckled to himself as he wandered outside to enjoy a cigar in the cooler air. His dance with Sansa had warmed him more than he had expected.

Fuming at his arrogance, she got herself a glass of punch, found a chair and sat down. She tried to calm her breathing but found that just recalling the feeling of his hard body pressed against hers set her pulse racing. Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the feelings. She looked about for Joffrey and saw him chatting with Mr. Williams and his wife Meredith. Mr. Williams was very wealthy and quite a bit older than his young and pretty wife.

Sansa decided to finish her punch before joining them. Scanning the dance floor, she looked about for Jeyne again and saw her dancing with yet another gentleman.

The crowd had shifted and she could no longer see Joffrey. She walked over to where he had been standing but he was no longer there. She searched the crowd but he was nowhere to be seen.

She finally spotted him just as he was slipping through one of the doors that led to the gardens. She quickly crossed the room and followed him out thinking to join him for a breath of fresh air. She spied him just as he disappeared behind a hedge. Curious as to where he was going, she followed, but as she neared she heard whispering and a feminine giggle. She crept closer and peered around the edge of the bushes. She couldn't believe her eyes. Joffrey and Meredith Williams together, kissing, passionately. Joffrey never kissed her like that, or held her like that. Astonished, Sansa watched as Joffrey's hands roamed over Meredith's body, coming to rest on her breasts.

"Oh Joffrey, must you marry her? Can't I keep you all for myself?" Meredith whispered to Joffrey as he was kissing her throat.

"Yes my darling, I have to. We must keep up appearances. If your husband found out about us, it would ruin you," he replied, his kisses trailing down to her breasts.

"I would gladly suffer ruin if it meant I could be with you always."

"You know I love you, my dearest, but things are best the way they are." Joffrey gently tugged on the bodice of her gown, revealing a rosy nipple. Sansa felt ill as she saw him take it in his mouth.

"Oh Joffrey, I love you so," Meredith sighed, as she ran her fingers through his hair and held his head to her.

Sansa quietly stepped away and stumbled back to the terrace, where she found a bench in the shadows. She collapsed onto it and began to sob quietly. Someone handed her a handkerchief and she gratefully accepted it, but her gratitude turned to dismay when she looked up and saw that it was Sandor who was standing over her.

"Why Miss Stark, what is the matter? Why all the tears?" he inquired as he sat beside her.

Still furious over their last encounter, he was the last person she wanted to see. She stood to leave, but was trembling so much that she sank back to the bench.. "Thank you for the handkerchief but could you please just leave me alone?" she sobbed.

At that moment she saw Joffrey walking back to the party followed at a discreet distance by Meredith who was smoothing her dress. Sandor saw the stricken look on her face as she stared at them. He had been enjoying his cigar earlier and had seen Meredith come out into the garden and disappear behind the hedge with Joffrey following her. He had also seen Sansa's discovery of them and had witnessed her shocked reaction. Gently he asked, "Are you in love with him? Is he the reason for your tears?"

Wordlessly she pulled off her glove and held up her left hand displaying the large diamond engagement ring on her third finger. "I'm to marry him," she whispered staring at the ring. "I don't know why I'm so upset. I don't love him and he knows that, but I thought that maybe he loved me at least a little." Lowering her hand to her lap, she said quietly, "Well it's probably for the best. Perhaps he won't come to me very often if he has someone else."

Moving closer he whispered to her, "Ah, but you're the type of woman who's husband should go to her often." Not able to resist touching her, he reached out to brush away her tears. His fingers lingered on her cheek and then trailed down her throat. "How could any man possibly resist you?" His fingers continued across her bare shoulders and down her arm. Even though the night was warm, she shivered as she felt goose bumps rise all over. He leaned in even closer, his lips an inch from hers "How could any man not want you?" he breathed.

She closed her eyes knowing that he was about to kiss her. After seeing Joffrey and Meredith together she wanted him to kiss her. His lips pressed against hers and she reacted at once, kissing him back. His arms wound around her, pulling her against him.

Her mind swirled with the passion she felt in his kiss. His more experienced lips moved seductively over her mouth, teasing her, urging her to respond. She was aware of nothing but him, as her hands touched his face and wound through his hair pulling it out of its ribbon. She felt his thick, shoulder length hair trailing over her bare left hand as his hair fell to his shoulders. Images of Joffrey with his head bent to Meredith's exposed breast flashed through her mind and she pressed herself against Sandor. His arm around her waist pulled her tighter.

She reveled in the sensations his kiss was awakening in her. She felt drugged and hazy, only the intensity of their kiss breaking through the passion induced chaos of her mind. Her heart was pounding, her breath caught in her throat. His hand gently caressed her cheek, cupping her jaw. With a feather soft touch, he trailed his fingers down her throat to her collar bone, tracing it out to her shoulder. His warm hand slid down her arm, his thumb brushing against her breast.

She flung her head back, a reckless desire to have him touch her as Joffrey had touched Meredith overtaking her. His lips found her throat and he trailed liquid fire down to her shoulder. Pushed beyond sanity she guided his head lower, to the softness heaving just above the bodice of her gown. He kissed, licked and even gently nipped at the exposed mound of her breasts. He could feel her trembling and gasping with delight as his lips and tongue traveled over her willing flesh.

"This is what you were meant for," he breathed, his tongue delving into the valley between her breasts. "Does your fiancé make you feel like this? Do you tremble from his kisses?"

Without waiting for her to answer, he straightened, pulling her head to his and again captured her lips in a searing kiss. His hand boldly covered her breast and gently squeezed, causing her to stiffen and press herself even more ardently against him. She moaned softly against his lips, all trace of reason having abandoned her.

He was teasing her mouth open with the tip of his tongue when suddenly the terrace doors opened and a blast of laughter and music poured out, snapping Sansa back to her senses.

Aghast at what she was doing, she pushed Sandor away and stood up, breathing heavily. She stared at him and saw the passion burning in his eyes. She felt herself immediately weaken and was afraid that she would be lured back in by those mesmerizing eyes. And with his hair loose and hanging about his shoulders he looked even more devilishly handsome than before.

She quickly turned away to go back into the party, but he stood and grabbed her by the arm pulling her back into his embrace. He stared down into her beautiful blue eyes and whispered to her, "You deserve better than him. You deserve a man who loves and adores you and who you love and adore as well."

Angered that she could not have that, she pushed his arms away. "That's a fairy tale, Mr. Clegane. In real life things don't always work out that way." She turned on her heel to walk back into the ballroom, but he pulled her close again.

"How long have you been engaged, Miss Stark?" he asked.

His question caught her so off guard that she answered before she could think. "Since the beginning of April."

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk and suddenly realized why he had asked. She blushed deeply.

"April," he repeated. "And I rescued you during that storm in May, I believe it was. Why didn't you tell me I was seducing a woman who is spoken for?"

Sansa couldn't think of an answer to give him. She couldn't tell him the truth because she wasn't sure she knew it herself. "I have no desire to continue discussing my personal life with you," she stated, avoiding his question.

"But by telling me that small fact, I would have halted my advances." Drawing her closer he whispered, "I take it, then, that you didn't mind?" "It apparently wouldn't have made any difference, if I had told you. You know now and just look at your behavior!" she snapped, pushing on the arm he still held around her waist.

Without relinquishing his hold, he admonished in a quiet voice, "And look at your behavior. You were kissing me quite ardently just a few moments ago. Kissing me and allowing me to kiss you, and not just on your delectable mouth. His hand caught her chin and raising his thumb he slowly stroked it over her lower lip.

Struggling to maintain her anger, afraid that if she let it go she would again lose her senses, she retorted, "I was clearly distraught over seeing my fiancé kissing and...and...embracing another woman. I was in a vulnerable state and you took advantage."

"Were you in a vulnerable state in my carriage?"

"I did not kiss you in your carriage," she snapped.

"But when I was kissing you, you didn't push me away. You succumbed quite easily, if I recall correctly. You also seemed to like it," he reminded her, a note of laughter in his voice.

She colored deeply and angrily replied, "It doesn't matter now. I'm engaged and you must leave me alone. Now let me go!" She gave a final push on his chest and broke out of his embrace. She whirled and stalked through the doors returning to the ball, tugging her glove back on.

Sandor stood by the door that Sansa had just stormed through. As he pulled his hair back into the confines of the silk ribbon, he watched her look around the crowded room. He could see that she was looking for someone and that she spotted Joffrey still talking to Meredith. Joffrey saw her and gestured for her to come over. She hesitated but joined them. It agonized Sandor to see her try to smile and act politely as she was introduced to her fiancé's mistress. She deserves so much better than him, he thought as he entered the room.

Sansa wandered through the throng of people in a daze. She had to find Jeyne. She couldn't shake the images of Joffrey and Meredith together in the garden. She also couldn't quite shake the feeling of Sandor's lips pressed against hers. She tentatively reached up and touched her lips and felt a shiver run down her spine. Is that what passion is supposed to feel like, she wondered? Was that the only time she would ever experience it? She suddenly felt eyes on her and looked up to see Sandor staring at her from across the room. Remembering that she still had her fingers on her lips she quickly pulled her hand away. With a knowing smile and a nod of his head, he raised his glass to her. She returned his salute with an icy stare and then turned and stalked away. She saw Jeyne just coming off the dance floor and rushed over to her.

"We have to leave!" she said grabbing her friend's arm.

"Leave? But I promised that deliciously wicked young man from London the next dance," she said, looking about for him.

"Please, Jeyne. I can't stay here a minute longer."

Hearing the desperation in her friend's voice, she abandoned the search for the young man and turned to look at Sansa. "What's going on?" she asked, seeing her distressed look.

"I can't tell you here. I'm going to tell Father and Joffrey that I have a splitting headache and that you and I are leaving, but that I'll send the carriage back for them." She was gone before Jeyne could protest.

Outside, they climbed into the carriage and Sansa could tell that even though Jeyne was sympathetic to the fact that she had wanted to leave so early she was still annoyed about it.

"So what happened that was so terrible that we had to leave early?" she asked tersely.

Images of Joffrey in the garden with Meredith flooded into head. She burst into tears. "Oh Jenny, it's so awful," she sobbed. Looking down at her lap she said, "It's Joffrey."

"What about him?" Jeyne asked, forgetting the ball, concerned for her friend.

Raising her tear stained face she said "I saw him tonight, in the gardens, with...with..."

Intrigued, Jeyne urged her, "With who?"

"M-m-meredith Williams," she stammered.

Jeyne's eyes widened with surprise.

"They were kissing...and...groping...each other," Sansa said quietly, again looking down at her hands in her lap.

Jeyne gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Her blue eyes widened even further. "That trollop! I knew she married old Mr. Williams just for his money! Well, after you're married, he'll have to end it with her."

"You don't understand, Jenny. He's only marrying me to cover the affair. He loves Meredith, not me. They'll continue on after the wedding."

"Oh Sansa. I don't know what to say."

"I knew, when he first started to call on me, that he was hiding something. And now I know what it is," she said dejectedly.

"I can see now why you wanted to leave early. At first I thought that maybe it had something to do with Sandor being there. I know how he affects you, but I had no idea it was Joffrey."

At the mention of Sandor, Sansa remembered the feelings his kisses and caresses had aroused in her. She felt the butterflies that always accompanied thoughts of him. Without realizing it, she had raised her fingers to her lips, she could still feel the kiss they had shared. Could feel the way he made her pulse race and her head spin. Her breasts heaved with the remembrance of his lips pressed to her tender flesh, and of his hands caressing her body. She blushed, remembering the way she had wanted him, at the passion she had felt.

Sensing that there was something else her friend wasn't telling her, Jeyne asked, "What? What else? Something else happened?"

Blushing furiously and unable to meet Jeyne's eyes she said, "Yes, something did happen. After I saw Joffrey and Meredith I ran into him"

"Who? Who?" Jeyne eyes grew wide again. "Sandor?" she whispered.

Turning her head away, she whispered, "Yes. On the terrace. He saw them both enter the garden and he saw me find them." She shot a tentative glance at Jeyne before continuing. "He saw how upset I was and I ended up blurting out that I even though I'm engaged, I don't love him. He was trying to console me, I guess, and we ended up...ended up...," her voice trailed away, too ashamed to finish the statement.

"Sansa, you didn't!" Jeyne was shocked and delighted at the same time. "You kissed him? Again?"

She nodded, tears again threatening. "I let him kiss me and I kissed him back. And not just on my mouth," she added weakly.

Jeyne was stunned speechless. She could only stare at her friend, her mouth hanging open.

Without being pressed, she continued, "I let him kiss me along my shoulders...and even here," she whispered, trailing her fingers along the edge of her bodice. "I even...I even let him... touch me...here," she whispered, her hand dipping below the top of her dress, to her breast.

Staring at Sansa's milky white flesh and then back into her friend's tear filled eyes, Jeyne couldn't help the smile that came to her lips. "How wonderfully wanton of you!" she declared happily.

"What are you talking about? There was nothing wonderful about it!" she cried. Once again, the incredible sensations he had provoked in her began to seep back into her mind as she thought about his lips and hand pressing against her breast. "Oh, yes there was," she quietly lamented. "The whole thing was wonderful, Jenny. Absolutely heavenly."

Turning Sansa to her she said eagerly, "Now tell me everything. Don't leave out a thing."

"Really, Jenny. He is such a cad! But, why can't I resist him? Why can't I forget him?"

"Because he's a cad. Because he takes advantage of vulnerable women. He's just so wonderfully devilish." Turning back to Sansa she asked, "Did he sweep you off your feet? Did you forget where you were? Was it anything like Joffrey's kisses?"

Blushing, she replied, "It was exactly like I always thought a kiss should be like. I forgot everything going on around me expect for Joffrey and Meredith and I suppose that's what made me act so brazenly. Oh, Jeyne, what am I going to do?" she wailed. "Absolutely nothing. Joffrey is behaving worse than you did, so you don't have to do a thing. I wouldn't even feel guilty if I were you. As a matter of fact, if Joffrey is going to have a friend, maybe you should have one too," she said with devilish smile.

Thoroughly shocked, Sansa turned to her. "You can't be serious! Are you actually suggesting I have an affair?" she asked incredulously.

"Why not?" she responded angrily. Turning playful she continued, "They're all the rage. Simply everyone is having one."

Sansa groaned and leaned back against the seat. "Jeyne, what am I going to do with you?"

She just chuckled in response and continued to pester Sansa with questions about her encounter with Sandor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter ;)


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Sansa sat at the breakfast table wondering what was taking her father so long. He was never late for breakfast.

"Shae, could you please go upstairs and check on Father?"

After a few minutes Shae came stumbling down the stairs, tears streaming down her face.

"Shae, what in heaven's name?" Sansa cried, rushing to assist her. The maid was so distraught Sansa was afraid she would fall.

"Mr. Stark," she sobbed, sinking down onto one of the steps. "I think he's...he's...dead, miss"

Sansa stared at Shae's shaking shoulders for a moment and then rushed up the stairs to her father's room. He was still in bed. He's just sleeping she thought. "Father?" she whispered. "Father," she repeated as she shook his shoulder. Even through his nightshirt she could feel that he was cold. He had died during the night in his sleep. Sansa felt the room dip and begin to spin before she collapsed to the floor.

When she awoke, she was lying on her bed, and Jeynr was sitting by her, holding her hand. Her eyes were red and puffy "Sansa, I'm so sorry," she said.

She sat up in the bed. She was silent for a few moments. "I'm all alone now, Jeyne," she whispered as tears silently slid down her cheeks.

Sansa could not believe her father was dead. His funeral had been later in the week. She didn't know how the arrangements were made, they just were and she had sat numbly through the service.

Afterwards she had told Joffrey that she didn't think she could possibly marry him the following week.

"Nonsense. It's just what you need," he had replied dismissively.

Ever since the Summer Ball, every time she saw him, all she could think about was what she had seen in the Jacobson's garden and how he was only marrying her so that Meredith Williams' husband wouldn't suspect that she was having an affair. You mean just what you need, she thought.

She wasn't sure that he was right but quite frankly she couldn't last much longer financially. There was barely enough money left to last six months. She immediately felt a stab of guilt because she was only marrying him for his money. She was no better than he.

She sat with Jeyne in the parlor pondering what to do when Jeyne suggested they take the carriage into town. That might cheer her up. Sansa didn't really feel like it but went along anyway.

As they wandered about the bustling town, they soon found themselves near the harbor. There they could see all the ships that were preparing to depart for America. Sansa saw people boarding the ships, speaking a jumble of different languages, excitedly heading for a new life and wondered what it would be like. "Jenny, I should just jump aboard one of those ships and try my luck in America."

Jeyne's eyes widened with excitement. "Why don't you Sansa? You don't love Joffrey and he doesn't love you. I'm sure he wouldn't be heartbroken if you don't get married. And since you're on your own now you can run off and have an adventure!"

"I was only kidding! I am not going to run off! And besides, those journeys are expensive and I've heard the conditions are terrible. Many people don't even survive the crossing."

Jeyne spotted a large ship being loaded with boxes and crates and asked a passing sailor if it was a passenger ship headed for America.

"That ship there's called the Aurora. She's goin' to America all right, she is, miss. To Virginia to be exact. But not with passengers. Just cargo is all."

Jeyne turned excitedly to Sansa. "Did you hear that? It's only a cargo ship. You could stow away!"

"Jeyne, that is the craziest idea you have ever come up with! I am not going to stow away aboard a ship!"

"How else are you going to avoid a loveless marriage to an unfaithful husband? You're due for an adventure Sansa. Take the chance!" Another sailor passed by. "Excuse me, do you know when the Aurora bound for Virginia sails?"

"I do believe it's tomorrow evenin' miss."

Before Jeyne could say a word, "Forget it Jenny, it is out of the question!"

The next day at home, Sansa sat in the parlor waiting for Joffrey. They were to have lunch together. Sansa was wearing a plain black gown and staring out the window. Shae entered and mentioned that Joffrey had arrived.

"My dear, how do you feel today?" he inquired, dryly kissing her on the cheek.

"Oh, a little better," she tried to say brightly. In fact she felt just as she had ever since she had discovered her father dead in his bed; numb and very alone.

After their lunch was served, she mentioned again to him that she didn't feel it was appropriate to be married so soon after her father's death. "I just don't feel it's right to have a celebration so soon after his death. There should be a suitable period of mourning."

Joffrey slammed his fist on the table, startling her. "I will not delay this wedding," he hissed. "I know all about your precarious financial situation and that you must marry me, so don't pretend that this is to be a joyous occasion for you," he sneered at her.

Sansa gasped, appalled that he would throw that in her face.

Not knowing that Sansa knew about the bargain he had made with her father, he misinterpreted her shock. "Oh yes, I know all about your father's gambling and how you're now close to destitute. Who do you think is paying for this wedding? Since the bride's family traditionally pays for it, I had to offer to pay the bills." Joffrey stood, placed both palms on the table and leaned across to her. The menace in his voice was unmistakable. "I am not prepared to pay for this wedding twice, Sansa. You are going to marry me in one week and that's final."

The color drained from Sansa's face and when she tried to rise from the table she found that her legs were shaking so much that she could not stand. Joffrey flung his napkin on the table and stormed out of the house.

When Jeyne dropped by two hours later, Sansa was in her room. She knew immediately that something was wrong. When Sansa told her about Joffrey's outburst and menacing behavior she was shocked. "Oh, Sansa, what if his meek manner all these months has been for show and he's actually very mean? They way he ordered me to marry him on the appointed day...what if he treats me like that after we're married? Oh, what am I to do?" Sansa broke down into tears.

Jeyne soothed her, stroking her hair and handing her a fresh handkerchief. "You could always stow aboard that ship headed for Virginia" she laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.

Sansa lifted her head, her face stained with tears. "Yes, I could, couldn't I?"

Jeyne looked at her in astonishment. "Sansa, I was only joking!"

"Really, what have I to lose? A loveless marriage to an unfaithful, horrible, mean spirited husband who will most likely treat me no better than a servant? I'll take my chances in the new world!"

With that she began to pack a few belongings, along with her mother's jewelry that was left to her and few other valuable objects that she knew she could sell if she needed money. She took what little money was left and Jeyne even offered up her own jewelry. She wrote Joffrey a note saying that she could not tolerate his unfaithfulness and was running away to France. She almost left her engagement ring with the note but thought it would serve him right not to get it back. She then ordered the carriage to take them into town. The driver didn't comment on the large bag that Sansa was carrying or the sense of excitement the two girls shared.

Dusk was settling as they walked nervously towards the docks, trying to decide the best way for Sansa to get aboard without being seen. They watched the loading process for a awhile and noticed that a number of crates were loaded onto a large pallet which was hoisted up and then deposited right down into the hold of the ship. If Sansa could sneak onto and off the pallet, hiding in between the crates without being seen she would be on the ship. She could hide out in the hold, sneaking food from the kitchen at night.

Sansa sat huddled in a corner of the huge ship wondering what had come over her to make her do this. She wondered if they were too far from shore for her to swim back. Her stomach gave a rumble and she suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten since lunch with Joffrey and even then it hadn't been much. She had a little food and water with her but she decided to try and make it last as long as possible and she lay down to try and get some sleep.

When she awoke she had no idea what time it was, but judging from the light peeping through the loading door it was day time.

After five days her food ran out and after a full week so did her water. Her thirst and hunger drove her to attempt to steal some food. That night when she peeked up on deck she saw that the sailor on watch was sound asleep. She was able to steal across the deck, find the kitchen and grab some bread and water. She managed to do this successfully for a few more weeks, going up always late at night and only every few days. However, she noticed that she was losing strength and knew that she needed more than just bread and water and that she needed it more often. That night she barely had enough strength to stand as she stole into the kitchen. While searching for something more substantial than bread she became light headed. Her head swimming, she stumbled and crashed into a rack of pots and pans. The noise woke the cook, who slept near the kitchen. With a roar he jumped out of bed and rushed into the kitchen to find Sansa struggling to get up and out of the kitchen.

In his half awake state, he didn't realize that it was a woman on the floor of his kitchen. "Hey there, what do yer think yer doin'?" he bellowed.

He grabbed her just as she was about to flee. Sansa struggled with the man but to no avail. In her weakened condition he subdued her easily. He looked at her puzzled, wondering what a woman was doing on the ship when the night watchman and most of the crew arrived having been woken by the commotion.

"I found 'er in the kitchen, tryin' to steal food," the cook announced.

Sansa noticed the lusty stares of the men and realized that in her struggle the bodice of her dress had torn and since the cook was holding her arms back she was displaying quite a lot of cleavage. One of the men advanced and stroked her cheek. "Yer mighty pretty fer a stow away. Why don't ye come sleep in my bunk?" He eyed her torn dress and exposed cleavage hungrily.

The cook pushed him away. "We'll 'ave none of that, now. The Cap'in'll decide what to do wit' 'er."

At that moment a voice boomed, "What in blazes is going on in here?" In her weakened condition along with the stress of the moment Sansa was having enough trouble just standing, but when she saw those familiar grey eyes staring at her in amazement she just collapsed into darkness.

Sandor stared at her limp form, still being held by the cook.

"What'll we do wit' 'er, Cap'in?"

Reaching for her, he said, "Give her to me. I'll put her in my cabin for now and figure things out in the morning. Everybody back to bed."

He lifted her easily and carried her back across the deck. Looking down into her dirty face, he couldn't believe it was her. He eyed her torn bodice, greedily drinking in her exposed flesh. He softly descended the stairs to his cabin and opened the door. He approached the bed and lay her down. Staring again at her face, he stroked her hair back. Even filthy, she's still lovely, he thought.

He didn't want to leave her in his bed wearing such dirty clothes, so he gently rolled her over and undid the lacings on the back of her dress. He managed to ease it off of her and then removed the lacings from her corset and gently pulled it out from under her. Resisting the urge to see her undressed, he covered her with a blanket before he pulled off her chemise and other garments. He pulled the blanket up to her chin and stared at her again. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on her smudged forehead before extinguishing the light and locking the door behind him.

He arrived back on deck and stared up at the sky. It was heavily sprinkled with stars. Why in the world was she on his ship? What had happened to her in Liverpool to drive her away? He hadn't told her he was a ship captain so she couldn't have chosen his ship on purpose. He was going to have to wait until morning for the answers to his questions and then after that he had her in close proximity for the next seven weeks. With a smile he thought to himself that this could prove to be the most enjoyable crossing ever.

The first thing Sansa was aware of was that she was in a bed. She sighed with relief that the horrible dream she had been having was over. Without opening her eyes she rolled over. She would wait until Shae came to wake her. She was then aware of the creaking of wood and the sound of footsteps overhead. It also felt as though the bed was moving, or rather as though the whole room was moving. Opening her eyes she realized that it hadn't been a dream at all and that she was in the cabin of a ship. Sunlight was streaming in through the porthole windows. She bolted upright and was horrified to find that she wasn't wearing her clothes and that she was naked. She pulled her knees up and drew the blanket up to her chin. Terrified, she recalled the events of the night before and wondered what her fate would be. She then remembered seeing Sandor. Surely due to her hunger she had been hallucinating. At that moment the door to the room opened and she knew that what she had seen had been real.

"Well, Miss Stark, I see that you're awake. How do you feel?" he asked jovially, closing the door behind him. He pulled the chair out from his desk, turned it to face her and eased himself into it.

Sansa ignored his question. "Where are my clothes? Who undressed me? What is going to happen to me?"

With an amused expression he replied, "I had to remove your dress as it was very dirty and I didn't want you in my bed wearing such filthy clothes." He stood and retrieved a nightshirt from a nearby cupboard. He handed it to her. "Perhaps you'll feel more comfortable wearing this for now."

"Your...your...bed?" she stammered taking the garment from him.

"I slept in the empty beds of the men on watch last night," he said, turning his back so that she could put the shirt on.

"But you undressed me!"

"I averted my eyes the whole time, I assure you," he replied with a smile in his voice.

At that moment there was a knock at the door. "Come in," he called.

A young sailor came in holding Sansa's belongings. "We found these in the hold, Captain."

"Thank you Forrester." Sandor took the bag from him and closed the door after the sailor left. "I assume this is yours?" he asked her, referring to the bag.

Having donned the nightshirt but still holding the covers up to her chin, she nodded, staring at him in amazement. "You're the captain of this ship?' she asked him.

"Yes, I am. Welcome to the Aurora." He rasped. There was another knock at the door. A sailor entered carrying a tray with a bowl of stew. The smell immediately set her mouth watering.

"Thank you Thomas," Sandor said taking the tray from the man.

"This is for you," he said approaching the bed. "So if you lower your knees, I'll place the tray in your lap."

Not taking her eyes off him, she slowly lowered her knees, still holding the blanket up to her chin. He placed the tray on her lap. "Now I know you're probably extremely hungry, but try and eat slowly or you'll make yourself sick. Afterwards try and get some more sleep. I have to go back up on deck and I'm going to lock the door. If anyone knocks, don't let them in." Stroking her matted hair he added, "Not all the men on this ship are as honorable as I am." He stared at her a moment and with a smile he exited and she heard a key turning in the lock. She stared at the closed door for a moment and then looked down at the food in her lap. She picked up the spoon and concentrated on eating the stew slowly. It was the best thing she had ever tasted.

When she next awoke it was dark outside the porthole. Sandor was standing by a large table covered with maps and charts. She assumed he was checking their progress and plotting the ship's course.

He wasn't aware that she was awake and she took this time to study him. She stared at his handsome profile. She watched him walk around the table with his confident stride and as he leaned over to write something, she noticed that his thick dark hair was pulled back with a ribbon and was wet. His burns visable, but it seemed like the more she looked at him, the less she noticed the scars, His jacket was hanging on the back of his chair and his shirt was damp in places and was sticking to him. A warmth began in her belly as her eyes traced the muscles of his arms and his back and the tapering at his torso. She admired the strength of his long legs. The warmth spread through her body, tingling her senses as her eyes slowly traveled back up, lingering here and there, and when they returned to his face, she suddenly realized that he had turned his head and was looking at her. She immediately blushed at having been caught staring at him.

He looked at her quizzically and cocked an eyebrow. Before he had a chance to say anything there was knock at the door. "Come in," he called out.

A sailor poked his head in. "Is now a good time, Cap'in'?" "Yes, yes, perfect timing." Gesturing for him to come in, two sailors entered carrying a large tin tub between them. They were followed by more men carrying large buckets of steaming water and they filled the tub. Another dropped off a bar of soap and a couple of towels.

After they had left, Sandor turned to her. "It's bath day on ship and I figured you'd probably appreciate one as well. I'm sorry we don't have any perfumes or oils but I think you'll find the soap to be adequate. I've also put out a fresh night shirt. It's late so I didn't think you'd be wanting to get dressed properly. I'll be back in an hour. And then we'll talk about why you're here." He picked up his jacket and walked out.

As soon as Sansa heard the lock turn in the door she jumped out of bed, pulling the shirt off over her head. Letting out a contented sigh, she sank into the tub and felt herself relax for the first time in weeks. She vigorously soaped and scrubbed herself and washed her hair. After toweling herself off she realized that without any hair pins she would just have to wear her hair down. Standing with the coppery curls hanging down to her waist she realized that she had never worn it entirely loose like this.

She looked down at the night shirt that Sandor had laid out for her. She found her bag laying on the floor and dug through it. She drew out a nightgown and pulled it on over her head. She pulled the ties at the drawstring neckline and tied them. The nightshirt only hung as far as her knees and she felt much more secure in a garment the fell to the floor.

As she was settled back in bed, working through a few tangles in her hair, there was knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Sandor called out.

She drew her knees up again and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Yes, Mr. Clegane, you can come in," she said nervously.

He carried a tray with him with another bowl of stew. A bigger bowl this time and the stew looked heartier than before. "This is for you. I assumed you would still be hungry. But still eat slowly."

She lowered her knees and he placed the tray in her lap. She tucked the blanket under her arms and picked up her spoon. As she ate he continued his work at the table. She watched him as he walked around the table. She pretended to be paying attention to her stew but cast discrete glances at him. She again admired his broad shoulders and when he leaned over to note something on a chart or measure a distance on a map, his shirt stretched over his back and she could see the muscles there as well. She watched the muscles working in his arm as he wrote and moved items about the table. Memories of how those arms had held her tightly so many times flooded through her mind, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

He knew she was only pretending to be concentrating on her meal. He caught her furtive glances out of the corner of his eye. Her attention to his movements made him highly self conscious and he tried to act as nonchalantly as possible, but her eyes on him made it very difficult. He could see that she wasn't wearing his nightshirt but a much more feminine garment. Of course she would have brought nightgowns with her, he thought.

When she had finished eating and the tray was cleared away, he pulled his chair up to the side of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees he sternly asked, "So, what are you doing on my ship?"

She didn't quite know where to begin so she told him everything, even the parts he already knew. How her father had gambled away almost all their money, the deal he had struck with Joffrey and her now impending marriage to him. Her discovery of his unfaithfulness, her father dying and how she felt so alone, Joffrey's startling and frightening change in character, and then her sudden need to escape which had unknowingly led her to his ship. It all poured out of her along with a good many tears. By the end of it she was sobbing.

Sandor sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her into his arms. "It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you on this ship. You'll be safe. I promise."

"I must have been out of my mind to have done this," she murmured. It felt good this time to be held by him. His strong arms made her feel safe and her head fit nicely on his broad shoulders. His strong hands gently stroked her damp hair. It suddenly occurred to her that it was incredibly inappropriate for her to be held by a man while sitting in bed wearing only a nightgown and with that thought she felt the now familiar butterflies that always appeared in his presence. The safety and comfort she had sought in his embrace ebbed away, only to be replaced by a liquid heat that seeped into her veins, causing her pulse to quicken along with her breath.

As Sandor held and consoled her, he realized how different if felt to hold her this time. Of course, she's not all done up with corsets and boning and whatever else is under those dresses, he thought. All that's between us is a few thin pieces of fabric. This is what her body really feels like. With that thought he felt a stirring in his body. She had melted against him and the stirring turned into a raw hunger. With great effort he quickly pulled away and stood up. Sansa was so startled by his actions that she did not think to pull up the covers. He could clearly see the outline of her breasts through the lacy fabric and he almost faltered. He stammered something about having to check things on deck and quickly left the room.

At the sound of the key turning in the lock, Sansa again felt very alone but willed herself not to cry again. Everything was going to be all right. With that thought she lay down and tried to sleep, but couldn't. She kept wondering what was happening at home. Joffrey was most likely furious. She felt sorry for the merchants and servants like Shae that she owed money to but there was nothing she could do about that. Mostly she thought about Jeyne and how much she missed her.

Sandor stood on deck, staring out at the black sea, and thought about all that she had told him. His heart especially went out to her about her father dying and how alone she now feels. He knew only too well what that felt like. His mind went back to his own childhood. He had grown up in an orphanage, having been abandoned by his parents at the young age of 6. His older brother, Gregor was an odd boy, with many issues, and one day, when he caught Sandor pkaying with his toys, he put his face to the fire. His mother couldn't bare to look at him anymore, so they left him outside of the orphange on a cold winter's day. The owners didn't know why he had been left or if his parents would ever come back for him so he was never shown to the few couples who came looking to adopt children. As he got older he helped out, taking care of the younger ones. He was turned out at the age of fourteen, deemed old enough to make his way in the world on his own. He ended up in Liverpool and after hanging about the docks for a couple of weeks found work on a ship. When the captain had found out that he could keep an orphanage full of kids in line and their bellies full he knew that Sandor would be perfect as a cook on the ship.

He turned out to be an excellent ship's cook and an equally excellent sailor. He rose through the ranks quickly and saved every penny he made. By the time he was twenty five he was able to secure a loan and buy his own ship. He smiled to himself recalling how excited he had been, acquiring his first shipping assignment, hiring his first crew. He had started out doing short runs along the coast of England from harbor to harbor and after he had earned an excellent reputation he started doing longer and longer runs and before he knew it he had bought a bigger ship and had done his first trans-Atlantic trip.

He recalled the day he had bought the Aurora. She was an East Indiaman, the most popular type of merchant ship. She was in rough shape but he spent what he had to in order to bring her to her former glory. He had been so proud the day he had christened her. He was now thirty-four years old and as he stood upon her decks he thought about the most beautiful and intoxicating woman he had ever met who was sleeping below his feet. He smiled at the prospect of having her close to him for the next two months.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, she again heard the key turn and Sandor walked back into the room. "Good, you're still awake. We need to talk about sleeping arrangements. This is the safest place for you to be but unfortunately there are no spare cabins and this is where I sleep. I promise to stay on one side of the bed, and if you stay on the other we shouldn't have any problems."

"You're suggesting that I sleep in this bed? With you?" Sansa asked incredulously.

"Yes, that's right," he replied.

"But...but...but..." She struggled to come up with an alternate solution. "What about last night, you said that you slept in the bunks left vacant by the men on watch. Couldn't you continue to do that?"

"No, the watch shifts are only a few hours and it's too disruptive of a night. I have to get a good nights sleep in order to run this ship." he answered.

"And there's nowhere else I can sleep?" she asked desperately

"Well, you could sleep with the crew, but I don't think I want to leave you to their tender mercies." Leaning over her, he placed a finger under her chin tipping her face up to him "I've developed too much of an attachment to you for that."

Sansa was wondering what he meant by that when he continued, "If it makes you feel any better I'll wait until you're asleep before I turn in. I have some work to do, so try to sleep."

With that he sat down at his desk and began writing in the ship's log. But, he thought, how the hell am I going to get any sleep with her lying next to me?

Sansa slid all the way over on the bed until she was wedged up against the wall. All the lamps in the cabin were extinguished except for a small one on the desk. The gentle rocking of the ship was very soothing and before she knew it, it had lulled her to sleep.

Sandor looked at her as she lay on the very furthest edge of the bed. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he pulled his shirt off. She looked so beautiful in the soft light of the room. As he pulled a nightshirt on over his head he admitted that she was beautiful in any light. He pulled off his breeches and stockings and thought, I just hope I can sleep. Ebony locks fell about his shoulders as he released his hair from the confines of the ribbon before quietly sliding into the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this chapter :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has sexual content.

Sandor awoke and immediately wondered what was wrong. It was still dark and the ship's movements were normal. And then he realized what it was. Sansa was snuggled up to him. A sweep of coppery red curls were strewn across his torso, her head was resting on his shoulder and her arm was thrown across his chest. Biting back a groan of frustration, he tried to lay still, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his for a few moments.

There was no way he could fall back asleep with her like this, but he also knew she would be deeply embarrassed if he woke her. He pretended to start snoring hoping that would wake her. After a couple of snorts she shifted a bit but didn't roll away. He was astonished to find that she actually snuggled a little closer and let out sigh of contentment. He could feel her move her head and he felt her eyes on him. He nearly jumped when he felt a gentle finger slide along his jaw and up and around his ear on the good side of his face. She then trailed it down his neck and back up again. She ran it down the length of his nose and very gently caressed his bottom lip. It took every ounce of his self control to continue breathing at a steady pace and not part his lips and suck her finger into his mouth.

Her hand slid back down to his chest and softly caressed the muscles there, awed by the hardness of him. As she snuggled even closer, he almost lost the last of his self control when her lips pressed against his neck. Mimicking the way he had kissed her a few months ago in his carriage, she kissed his neck again, her tongue touching his flesh.

Unable to keep up the pretense, a low groan escaped from his lips. "God woman, what are you trying to do to me?," he growled, his voice low and husky with desire. He turned to her, his eyes glowing with passion. She gasped and tried to move away, but Sandor gripped her wrist, pulling her back.

"I...I thought you were asleep," she stammered, afraid of the look in his eyes.

"Something woke me up," he whispered, pulling her close. "Tell me, my dear, just what were you doing? Trying to seduce me?" his lips curled into a wicked smirk as his smoldering grey eyes burned into hers.

"No, I...I don't know..." she trailed away, unable to answer him. She didn't know herself what had driven her to touch him and kiss him. There was no explanation except that she was unable to resist the power that this man seemed to have over her, as if some spell had been cast that defied all her common sense.

"What were you planning to do next?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He had pulled her so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

"I...I..." she stammered, her breath suddenly catching in her throat, her heart pounding fiercely.

He pulled her fingers to his lips and gently kissed the tips. "Don't let my being awake stop you," he murmured, not removing her fingers from his mouth.

Sansa let out a shaky breath as she watched his tongue dart out and flick the tip of her fingers before slowly drawing her index finger into his mouth. A small cry slipped from her throat as her finger slid into the warm confines of his mouth, his lips closing around her knuckle.

Sandor's eyes bored into hers and she knew she was lost. An unnamed hunger flooded her body, heightening her senses to almost painful clarity as he released her finger. His hand closed around the back of her head and pulled her lips to his, kissing her with a passion that had been building ever since that night on the terrace of the Summer Ball.

Sansa's mind spun into a whirl as the kiss deepened. His searing lips fanned the flames of her passion and before she knew it she was kissing him back. The immediate heat of her own response shocked her, sent her reeling. She wrapped her arms around him pulling him closer.

Pressing her back down against the bed, he supported his weight with one hand and with the other he gently touched her face. He again wound his hand through her silky hair. His kisses grew more intense but when his tongue slipped into her mouth, her mind suddenly cleared and she pushed him away.

Turning her head, she cried, "What are you doing?" Sansa had never heard of people kissing like that and Joffrey had certainly never done that in any of the very chaste kisses they had exchanged. She recalled how in their previous kisses, Sandor's tongue had touched her lips but he had never tried to insert it into her mouth!

His hand was still in her hair and she tugged on his arm trying to make him remove it. Refusing to relinquish his hold he replied, "I was kissing you. You seemed to be enjoying it." He suddenly realized that Sansa had probably never been kissed like that before. Leaning closer he said, "I guess your Joffrey never kissed you like that, did he? You deserve to be properly kissed by a real man."

Suddenly acutely aware that they were in his bed, clad only in the thinnest of garments and in a most compromising position, she tried to move away from him. "Let me go," she pleaded, afraid of her own emotions, of the raw feelings coursing through her trembling body.

Ignoring her struggles, Sandor leaned even closer to her and whispered, "Not yet. Kiss me again and then ask me to let you go." Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers once more and began to kiss her again, softly and slowly.

Sansa tried to resist feeling anything, hoping he would then get off her, but before she knew it she was again responding and kissing him back. When his tongue again sought entry into her mouth she opened her lips and accepted it. Her heart began to hammer in her chest and the heat again spread through her, coiling through her limbs. She met his tongue with her own and felt almost dizzy with the sensations flowing through her. Her arms went back around him, winding around his neck. Her hands found their way into his hair stroking the thick locks.

Sandor's hand slid from her hair, down her neck to land on her breast. A growl rumbled deep in his throat as he gently squeezed, feeling the nipple harden beneath his palm. Sansa arched against him, pressing herself against his hand, urging him to go further.

At that point, he knew he had to end this now, for if it continued much further he wouldn't be able to stop. With a groan bordering on pain, he pulled back, tearing his lips from hers. They lay in each other's arms gasping, their eyes both burning with passion and desire.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped. "Tell me now because I won't be able to later."

"No, don't stop," she breathed, replacing his hand on her breast. Leaning toward him, offering her lips for him to kiss, "Please, don't stop,"

He gazed hungrily at her parted lips, tipped up to him, waiting for him. She had no idea what she was asking for. If he gave in to the fierce hunger clawing at his insides he would not be able to stop and he would never be able to forgive himself. Clenching his teeth he called upon every reserve of self control he had and pulled himself away from her. He climbed off the bed and stood at it's edge staring at her as she gazed back at him with blazing blue eyes. Her chest was heaving, pressing her hardened nipples against the thin fabric of her nightgown.

"No, don't go," she pleaded breathlessly, wanting nothing more than for him to climb back into the bed and again take her in his arms.

He wrenched his eyes from hers and snatching up his breeches, boots and jacket he hastily left the room, leaving her bewildered.

With a frustrated cry, Sansa fell back against the bed. As she was pondering why he had rejected her, why he had left when she had asked him to stay, her wildly pounding heart slowed and her spinning head cleared. Oh dear God, what had she done? What had she been willing to do? Utterly ashamed, she covered her face with her hands. What was it about this man that caused her to act so recklessly, so brazenly?

Outside the room, Sandor leaned against the door, pulling on his breeches and thrusting his bare feet into his boots. When he heard her cry of frustration he fled to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat as he stepped onto the deck, breathing in deeply the cool night air. The gentle breeze picked up his loose hair and swirled it about his face as he tipped his head back and gazed up at the star filled sky. His whole body hummed with tension, his lips and palm burning from where he had kissed and touched her. Closing his eyes, he let the sensations wash over him before taking another deep breath, letting his passions cool.

Walking briskly about the deck, he worked off the excess energy coursing through him until he was relaxed and he hoped she was asleep. Quietly, he slipped down the stairs and through the hallway to his cabin.

Without making a sound he slowly opened the door to his cabin and peered inside. Moonlight streamed through the portholes, illuminating the room with a silver glow. She was sprawled across her side of the bed, not curled up in a ball like he had been expecting.

Her coppery hair was strewn across the pillows, glinting in the shimmering light. Her pale lashes lay against her cheek and her breathing was soft and deep. He fought down the urge to touch her, to just stroke her cheek. How was he supposed to stay away from her, not touch her, not kiss and hold her in his arms for the remainder of this voyage. Staring down at her lovely face, he dragged his fingers through his loose hair, finger combing it back over the right side of his face..

With a sigh he pulled off his jacket, boots and breeches before sliding into his bed. He resolutely turned his back to her and tried to forget that she was there.

In keeping with years of practice his eyes opened as dawn was breaking, the early sun sending pink and gold rays into the room. He was surprised to find his nose buried in a mass of red curls. Slowly his senses awoke and began reporting to his brain. Sansa was nestled in his arms, her back curving against his body. His thigh was thrust possessively between hers, one arm was wrapped around her waist, the other stretched out beneath her neck. Muffling a groan, he debated how he was going to untangle himself without waking her. Being so close to her was already stirring his desire and he didn't dare risk a glance into her captivating blue eyes.

She made a small sound of protest as he pulled away but, thankfully, did not awaken. Sandor stood by the edge of the bed, gazing down at her, watching the soft light in the room bathe her lovely face.

He quietly went about his routine of washing, shaving and dressing, all the while casting glances over at the captivating creature sleeping in his bed.

Never before had a woman entranced him so. He caught himself thinking of her at times when his thoughts should be concentrated elsewhere. And that was during the day. The nights were worse. He was tormented by dreams of her. Dreams where the kisses and brief caresses they had shared were only the beginning. Dreams where she gave herself willingly, even eagerly to him. Her breathless pleas from the previous night rang in his ears. Don't stop. Please, don't go. She had been offering herself. But, she didn't know what she was doing, he reminded himself. She's a complete innocent, she's never truly experienced raw, unleashed passion. Most likely didn't even know that she had the power to awaken that in him.

Raking his fingers through his hair, pulling it back and restraining it with a thin strap of leather, he cast her one last lingering look before silently leaving the room.

Sansa awoke slowly, her hands instinctively stretching out across the sheets, searching for something. What was she looking for, she wondered. And then memories of the previous night flooded through her mind with stunning clarity. Her eyes flew open, darting about the room, relief flooding her veins to find that he was already gone. She was surprised to find that the relief was touched with disappointment that he wasn't still there. Wasn't still in their bed. She had woken much earlier that morning, before him, sighing happily in his arms before drifting back to sleep.

Sitting up, she shook her head. I must be losing my mind, she thought. I should be thanking my lucky stars he had the good sense to leave when he did last night. A shiver rippled through her body as she thought about what might have happened had he stayed. Would she have continued, surrendering her virtue? Would she have given herself to him?

The shiver returned as she again chastised herself for daydreaming of him. She squared her shoulders as she rose from the bed, vowing to be strong and to not let his charms get the best of her again.

As she tugged on the laces of her gown, trying to make it fit without the constricting corset beneath it, her mind again drifted to home and what she had left behind. She was surprised to find that it was only the people, and not a single possession that tugged at her heart. Jeyne of course was who she needed the most right now. A smile curled her lips as she thought about how much her adventurous friend would love hearing about last night.

The smile slipped from her lips and her hands began to tremble as she again recalled how she had acted and felt last night. With a shaky breath she sank to the bed. Why could she not control herself around him? What was it about him that she simply could not resist? She had always prided herself on being sensible and level headed but for some reason all she had to do was look at him and all her common sense and even her dignity just evaporated. Color flooded her cheeks as she recalled how she had practically begged him to not stop. Shame spread through her limbs as she once again felt desire for him building. Desire to have him hold her, kiss her, touch her.

Shaking her head, she once again promised herself that she would not behave so disgracefully again. She stood quickly and resolutely tied off the laces of her gown. Glancing down she wished the neckline was bit higher. Normally she wouldn't give it a second thought as the low neckline was the fashion of the day, but under the circumstances, she wanted something more conservative. Well, it will have to do, she thought.

Standing by the door, she put her ear to the rough wood. The corridor outside was silent and she slowly turned the knob. It stopped before making a full turn and she suddenly realized she was locked in. Her shoulders slumped and sitting herself down at the desk, she wondered what she should do until Sandor returned.

Sandor stood outside his cabin door and took a deep breath. He had given her plenty of time to be up and dressed but he still hesitated. Clutching the key in his hand he closed his eyes and again took a deep breath, calming himself before entering the room to be enveloped by her intoxicating presence.

Sansas head swung and she jumped to her feet as she heard the key turn in the lock. It was late in the morning and having been stuck in the room for over an hour, was anxious to get out.

"Miss, Stark, may I come in?" he called.

Just the sound of his deep voice caused a tremor to run through her body. She was too worked up, too embarrassed about last night to easily face him. Taking a deep steadying breath, she responded. "Yes, you may come in."

The door swung open and suddenly the hours evaporated and they both felt the same hunger that had consumed them during the night. The promises they had made to themselves that they would be strong dissolved as he approached her.

Sandor's gaze swept over her, lingering on the neckline of her gown before settling on her sparkling blue eyes. Only a couple of feet separated them and he could see that she was trembling, her chest heaving with shaky breaths. His own lungs were greedily sucking in air as well and all he could think about was gathering her in his arms and feeling her lips on his.

Sansa's body was also in turmoil. She was craving his touch, desperately wanting his body pressed against hers, his silky soft hair brushing her cheeks as his mouth covered hers.

Getting a grip on his errant emotions, he managed a smile. "Good morning," he greeted her.

"Good morning," she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

"I thought I might give you a tour of the ship, as this will be your home for the next couple of months," he said.

"Couple of months?" she exclaimed. She had no idea these crossings took so long. How was she going to manage sleeping in the same bed with him for two more months?

"Yes. It may not take that long, or it may even take longer. It all depends on the wind and the weather of course," he said still smiling at her. "Once you know your way around the ship and become acquainted with some of the crew, you'll be fine."

"It's not the crew I'm worried about," she murmured to herself.

She went to move past him, but he gently caught her arm. Just this light contact sizzled through her and her eyes flew to his.

"Before we go, I'd like to apologize for last night," he said haltingly. Seeing her cheeks flame with embarrassment, he cleared his throat before continuing. "I should have alerted you the moment I awoke instead of just laying there...letting you...touch me." he stammered.

Sansa didn't know what to say. Should she thank him? Should she also apologize? "I apologize as well. I shouldn't have woken you," she whispered. "I know you need a good nights sleep. It won't happen again." She was staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might see there.

Placing a finger under her chin, he raised her eyes up to his. "I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it," he said, his voice soft and low. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her waist, his eyes warming with the heat he was feeling for her. "I think you know quite clearly how I feel about you. How I can't resist drawing you into my arms when you're near, how I can't resist kissing you." His hand gently caressed her cheek before slipping into her hair, his large fingers tangling in the soft curls. Staring down into her wide eyes, he could see the mixture of fear and desire that was battling inside her.

"What are you saying? That you love me?" She stared at him with wide eyes, her heart picking up tempo, thundering in her ears.

The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. "No, my sweetness, not love. It's a very different emotion that has me spellbound."

His lips were scarcely a breath away from hers. She knew he was about to kiss her. Scared of her own emotions, she twisted her head away, avoiding his eyes. "Please," she whispered.

"Please what?" he replied, brushing his lips against her temple.

She tried to pull out of his arms. "Please don't. I can't..." Her words caught in her throat as his lips touched her skin.

"You don't want me to hold you? You don't want me to kiss you?" he asked her, his lips close to her ear.

Oh yes, she wanted that. She wanted nothing more than to melt against him and feel his lips on hers, but she knew she had to be strong. They had two months ahead of them and she wasn't about to falter on the first day. Taking a deep breath, she was about to tell him no, when his tongue touched the tender flesh behind her ear. She trembled in his arms as he trailed his tongue down her throat with maddening slowness, finally stopping at the base.

No, no, no, oh please no, she thought, willing the words to come to her lips, to make him stop this exquisite torture. Opening her mouth, she was surprised to hear the mutinous words that breathlessly passed her lips. "Yes, oh yes, Sandor."

She recklessly threw her head back, giving him greater access to her throat, and God help her, her heaving bosom. Accepting her invitation, his hand closed over her breast, feeling the nipple harden beneath the thin fabric. Dipping his head lower he trailed kisses along the edge of her gown, his fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh above her wildly pounding heart. His grip around her waist tightened as his lips captured hers, the immediate intensity shattering the last of her resolve to be strong.

She realized she was powerless to stop this, and she didn't want to either. Even when Sandor gently walked her backwards until they both tumbled onto the bed, her desire for him did not wane. Being pinned beneath his large body only heightened her arousal, only increased her need for him. A small cry escaped her lips as his lips again descended down her throat, to her heaving chest.

She arched against him as she felt him gently tugging on the edge of her bodice, revealing a dark pink, erect nipple. A low moan rose in her throat as his full lips closed around the hardened nub, sucking it into his mouth. Her hands wound into his hair, pulling it from it's constraint, luxuriating in the silky feel of it against her burning skin. 

Sandor's lips again touched her throat, nuzzling the hollow at the base. "Oh Sansa, you are too tempting, too delicious to resist," he murmured.

"I want you Sandor, I want you," she whispered. Her entire body was aflame, burning with a hunger she had never felt before, yet knew that only he could satiate her need.

Her softly spoken words roughly jerked him back to reality. With a low cry he wrenched his lips from her soft flesh and tried to rise from the bed. Her hands clutched the lapels of his jacket, pulling him towards her, refusing to let him go. "No, Sansa, we can't, I can't... You don't really want this. You don't know what you're asking me for," he panted.

The yearning in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. Lowering his head, he rested his forehead against her shoulder. "I can't take your innocence, I could never forgive myself and neither would you." He felt her hands relax their grip and he reluctantly stood, staring down at her, laying on his bed, looking absolutely bewitching. Her breast was exposed, her hair in wild disarray, but it was her eyes, glittering with lust that were the most enticing.

She slowly sat up, her loose hair tumbling down over her shoulders, partially covering her gaping gown. The pink nipple peeking out at him from between the flames of her hair.

Sucking in a shaky breath, he turned on his heel and quickly exited the room, once again leaving them both wondering how they were going to survive the next two months together.


	9. Chapter 9

Standing at the railing looking out at the ocean, Sansa breathed deeply. The crisp, fresh air blowing her hair back certainly did feel good after so many weeks of being cooped up. Her earlier night time visits on deck hadn't given her much of a chance to enjoy it. The first mate had given her an extensive tour of the ship and she had met most of the crew. By now the story of why she was on board was well known and they behaved in a much more civil manner to her this time and she was grateful for that.

Sandor stood by the wheel of the ship staring at Sansa. With her face tilted up to the wind and her flame red hair blowing out behind her she was indeed a vision. In a couple of months they would reach America. He usually hoped for quick crossings, eager to reach port, and even though the atmosphere between the two of them was often tense, this time he found himself wishing the voyage would take longer than usual.

Sansa was watching the sun set and was awed by the splendor of the sky as it turned red and gold.

"It's a beautiful sight isn't it?"

Sansa was startled by Sandor's voice behind her. She hadn't heard him approaching.

She turned to answer him and found him standing very close to her. Her heart began to pound and she suddenly forgot what he had just asked her. Her mind immediately flew back to the wildly passionate embrace they had shared earlier and she was dreading that in a couple of hours they would be sharing a bed again.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked him.

Staring intently into her blue eyes he said softly, "I was commenting on what a beautiful sight it is."

Sansa's breath caught in her throat. Staring deeply into his eyes, she agreed, that yes, it is beautiful.

At that moment, the first mate approached, and with a polite cough he broke the spell and Sandor turned to him. They spoke briefly and he turned back to her. "It's starting to get cold. I'll escort you back to our cabin."

As Sandor locked the door behind him, Sansa smiled at the way he had referred to the cabin as "ours".

Over the next few nights they managed to stay away from each other. However, the tension that permeated their cabin whenever they were together was exhausting. It was late at night, the light had been extinguished hours ago but Sansa was still wide awake, listening to Sandor's steady breathing as he lay nearby. So nearby. All she had to do was reach out and touch him. And how her fingers ached to touch him, to stroke his skin, so soft over hard muscle, to caress his silky hair. And her body yearned for his touch as well. Her breath quickened as she recalled how magical it felt when his hands moved over her, caressed her cheek, her shoulders, her breast. A shiver raced down her spine as she relived the moment he had sucked her nipple into his mouth. She tried to let her imagination take it further, but she had no idea what would come next. Something that he would not do, would not let himself do.

She bit back a groan of frustration, desperately wanting to sleep but unable to, not with him so close. And even when she could sleep, she was tormented by dreams of him, dreams that she always awoke from aroused and breathless. It seemed that not a moment went by that she didn't yearn for him.

Sandor lay with his back to her, listening to her tossing and turning, her frequent deep sighs. He sensed her frustration, felt it himself, in every fiber of his being. He had never had to exert so much self control in his life as he was exercising with this woman. Flames of desire scorched his body, igniting his need to draw her into his arms, hold her, kiss her, touch her. He let the memories wash over him, almost feeling her beneath his palms, her smooth skin, her soft lips and hair. His ears tingled with the recollection of her sweet sighs, her soft moans as he aroused her senses and her breathless pleas to not stop, to not leave her. Biting back his own groan, he desperately tried to think of something else, something that would calm the chaos in his mind and body. But no matter what thoughts he endeavored to conjure up she always managed to find her way in and he was once again fantasizing about her.

Jerking awake, he was first aware that he had managed to fall asleep, second, that there was a frantic knocking at the door as the first mate called out, "Captain, Captain, wake up!"

Sandor jumped out of bed and opened the door. "What is it Simpson?"

"There's a storm up ahead, sir. It's still a ways off and we may be able to avoid it."

Sansa sleepily raised her head and asked what was happening.

Without removing his nightshirt he began to dress hurriedly. "We may be heading into a storm. Make sure those portholes are locked tight and don't light any lamps, the oil might spill and catch fire. Lock the door and stay in bed, it's the safest place for you." Seeing her frightened expression he said, "Don't worry Littlebird, I've safely sailed this ship through many a storm." Kneeling on the bed and pulling her to him with one arm, he stole a quick kiss and whispered, "for luck," just before he grabbed his jacket and ran out the door.

She locked the door and checked the windows before crawling back into bed. She gently touched her lips where he had kissed her and realized that he had called her "Littlebird". She wondered what that meant as she drifted into sleep.

She was woken by the ship violently pitching from side to side, threatening to throw her from the bed. She could hear the men above shouting and running. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed through the rain lashed portholes as she huddled beneath the blankets, frightened by the noises. Wood cracked loudly overhead causing her to cry out as she pulled the blankets tightly around her. She was terrified and kept checking the floor for water as she tried to remember Sandor's words, that he had sailed safely through many a storm. She prayed feverently that this would be another one of those times.

It was still dark out when the storm finally subsided. Sansa could hear someone stumbling and tripping down the stairs. There was a banging on the door and Sandor's voice, thick with exhaustion, called out asking her to open it. She rushed to the door and unlocked it, letting him in. He staggered into the room, soaking wet, the lines etched deep into his face. He groggily thanked her and fell face first onto the bed.

Sansa tried to wake him but he was sound asleep. She couldn't very well leave him lying there soaking wet, so she lit a lamp and set about undressing him. Starting with his jacket, she pulled it off and hung it dripping from a hook on the wall. Moving to his boots and stockings, they came off with relative ease. She struggled to roll him over and almost fell on top of him in the process. She pushed his wet hair out of his face and lifted his head, placing a towel under it, trying to dry his hair.

He was still wearing his night shirt and her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the length of it out of his breeches. She struggled to lift him and managed to tug it up to his shoulders and the pull it off over his head. She sucked in her breath at the sight of his bare chest. She cleared her head with a shake and wondered how she was going to remove the remainder of his clothes. Her fingers trembled a great deal as she unbuttoned his breeches. She covered his midsection with the blanket and grabbing his breeches at the knees she managed to pull them off without disturbing the blanket. She was grateful to see that his underclothes had not come off with them.

She was sitting on the bed arranging the blanket over him properly when her hand brushed against his chest. She hadn't wanted to admit it but she had often wondered how he would look without his shirt and how his bare skin would feel. Before she knew what she was doing she reached out and touched him gently with just her fingertips. She could feel jolts of heat shooting up her fingers as she trailed them across his muscular chest covered in dark hair. She was once again amazed at how soft his skin was and was reveling in the startling sensations when his hand suddenly shot out and grabbed hers. Startled, she looked up to realize that he was awake and staring at her. "What are you doing?" he asked huskily.

Sansa tried to pull her hand away and frantically searched for an explanation as to why she was touching him. "I...I...I was checking to see if...if...you were dry and...whether I should fetch more towels," she stammered.

"Well, am I?" he asked softly, not releasing her hand but instead pulling her towards him. His lips were only inches away from hers and she once again found herself lost in his eyes.

"Yes, yes you are. Towels are not needed," she whispered, sure that he was about to kiss her.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he placed her palm on his chest. She could feel his heart hammering. "Are you sure? Do you want to make sure I'm not wet anywhere else?" he teased, pulling her hand down lower over his chest and onto his stomach.

Sansa snatched her hand back just before it disappeared beneath the edge of the blanket. She quickly stood and moved away from the bed. She found that her heart was pounding and she was having trouble catching her breath. She noticed that he was also breathing heavily. She turned and grabbed a night shirt from the cupboard and handed it to him.

He accepted the nightshirt as he lifted the edge of the blanket and looked down. "Who undressed me?" he asked with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Sansa straightened herself. "I did," she stated and even though she tried she couldn't help but blush.

He looked at her quizzically and raised an eyebrow.

"I kept my eyes averted and covered you with a blanket while removing your breeches," she stated unable to meet his gaze.

His eyes roamed over her as he suddenly noticed that all she was wearing was the lacy nightgown and since she was standing between him and the lamp he could see the outline of her body quite easily. He noted her full breasts and slim waist that swelled out slightly to her pleasing hips. He had guessed that she had a very alluring figure but until now, when he saw her without all the usual trappings, he hadn't been sure.

When he didn't respond, Sansa glanced over at him. She could see the fire burning in his eyes and when she saw what he was looking at she immediately blushed and moved into the shadows. "Could you please get up for a moment and let me get back into bed?" she asked.

Still holding the nightshirt in his hand, he began to pull back the blanket.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"You asked me to get up to let you in," he responded innocently.

"Kindly put your nightshirt on first."

"I don't think I quite feel like putting it on yet. Why don't you just climb over me?" he suggested, with a sly smile.

Sansa refused to be intimidated by his little game and she tentatively approached the bed. When she saw that he was again staring at her body she quickly climbed over him and pulled the blankets around herself.

"Oh, the lamp is still lit. Since you seem to object to me getting out of bed, could you please turn it off?"

Sansa glared at him, but gamely climbed over him again and ignoring his eyes on her, extinguished the lamp. Through the porthole she noticed the first pink rays of sunrise. With the faint light filtering into the cabin she could see his eyes still on her. Something in his gaze made her hesitant about climbing over him again. "Perhaps you could just move over instead of me having to climb over you again," she said quietly.

"But the bed is wet beneath me and I think you would find that rather uncomfortable. Besides, I rather like having you climb over me," he said with a smirk.

She nervously walked to the foot of the bed and kneeling on it carefully she began to climb over him. She could feel his eyes on her and even though she tried not to she could not help but meet his gaze. He dropped the nightshirt to the floor, sat up and reaching out his hand, stroked her cheek. She was frozen to the spot. She didn't know if she should continue into the bed or back away. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arm around her waist and wound his other hand in her hair and gently pulled her to him. She looked deep into his eyes where she was once again mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. He pulled her close until she was in his lap. He took her face in his hands and drawing her lips close to his, he whispered, "Kiss me, Littlebird. Kiss me."

She stared into his eyes and saw the passion burning there. He was almost naked beneath the thin blanket and to kiss him would only escalate things far beyond where she was willing to go. "No," she whispered, turning her head.

Taking her chin in his hand he turned her to face him again. Ignoring the fear he saw in her eyes he began to move his lips towards hers. She again turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek instead.

"Please...," she begged.

"Please what?" he teased, his lips pressed against her cheek.

"Please, don't...," she choked out.

"Please, don't what? Please don't stop?" he continued to tease.

Trying to melt her resolve Sandor firmly turned her head and began to kiss her. Gently at first and then with greater intensity. She pushed against his chest and tried to pull her mouth away but he held her fast. His lips moved over hers, trying to claim her. One hand held the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist. She struggled to free herself but it only seemed to excite him further. His tongue plunged into her mouth and she tried to resist but she was losing the battle. Her tongue traitorously twirled with his and she pressed herself against him. She felt dizzy and almost feverish. She never wanted the kiss to end.

His hand moved from the back of her head and trailed down her arm. She felt his hot palm press against her rib cage and alarm bells went off in her head. His hand began to inch upwards toward her breasts. With the last of her strength she managed to wrench herself free of his kiss. Furious with how she had almost lost control yet again and with the way that he was treating her she raised her hand to slap him. He easily grabbed her wrist in his hand. Still trying to extricate herself from his embrace, she pushed at his arms with her free hand but they were like steel wrapped around her. "Let me go, you beast!" she hissed at him, letting her anger rise, knowing it was her only defense against him.

Amusement lit his eyes. "A beast, am I?" he asked, his voice rough and low.

"A beast and a brute!" she spat back. "Release me!" she demanded. She clawed at his arm, dragging her nails across his skin.

He snatched up her other hand and pulled them both behind her back. With her arms held back, the thin fabric of her nightgown was pulled tight across her breasts, her nipples straining at the delicate fabric. He stared at her heaving bosom and she saw the hunger burning in his eyes. Keeping his hold on her wrists with one hand, he stroked her throat with the other. His mouth followed his hand and she felt him nuzzle the hollow at the base of her throat. A small cry burst through her lips as his hand covered her breast, his fingers tweaking an already taut nipple.

Her head tipped back and her body betrayed her again as a moan escaped her lips. She went limp, the fight leaving her body as she pressed against him. His lips once again captured hers, claiming her as his own. Somewhere in her mind, she knew this was wrong, that she shouldn't be doing this but stronger feelings overrode the common sense. Tendrils of passion and desire coiled through her body as she struggled to free her wrists. She wanted to touch him, to feel his hard body beneath her palms, to run her fingers through his thick locks.

He released her and her arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her. She felt his arm circle her waist, holding her tightly as the other hand continued to gently caress her breast through the thin nightgown. Her head again tipped back and she brazenly pulled away from him, giving him greater access to her body.

Once again, that small voice in the back of her mind was warning her, telling her she must stop, but she ignored it, the pleasure she was feeling was too great. Her mind was spinning out of control, causing her to throw caution to the wind, to disregard all the rules of ladylike behavior and brazenly give herself over to this man.

She heard him chuckle at her apparent surrender and anger exploded in her. His smugness snapped her out of her trance where her own morals and sense of decency had not. He was not going to win her over that easily, she vowed. She yanked her arms away from his neck and managed to roll away from him, pressing herself against the far wall.

"Stay away from me," she cried, her voice sounding much steadier than she felt.

"And what will you do if I refuse?" he asked, placing his palms on the bed and rising on all fours, moving towards her, causing the blanket to dip dangerously low over his midsection. Once again she could see the passion smoldering in his eyes as her own emotions traitorously rose to greet it. Curling his hands around her arms he pulled her to him, wrapping her in a tight embrace. His lips descended to hers, kissing her hungrily, making his desire for her blatantly clear.

She clawed at him, trying to escape his arms as his kiss continued to punish her mouth. Both fear and desire swirled in her mind. She did want him, and she began to relent. Gripping his strong arms and responding to his kiss, her tongue eagerly meeting his. But the memories of her repeated vows to be strong flooded her mind and she again called upon her anger to aid in her effort to resist him. He suddenly released her from the kiss and shoved her roughly against the bed.

"You bastard," she hissed at him, scrambling backwards, trying to get away from him.

"I think I like being called a beast better," he said wickedly. Grabbing one slim ankle, he dragged her back across the bed, causing her night gown to pull up. "Don't resist me Littlebird." She was frantically trying to keep her gown down around her legs, when he continued with a sneer, "You have to earn your passage somehow."

Horrified, her eyes flew to his. He could not be serious!

He knew he shouldn't be so cruel, but he just couldn't help himself. He chuckled at her shocked reaction. "You thought you could just sail across for free?" he said, as he pulled her to him.

"You expect me to pay for my passage in your bed?" she exclaimed, looking up at him. She was so stunned that she forgot that she was laying in that very bed.

"Unless you know how to rig a sail, or climb the ropes to act as look out, I really can't think of another way," he said matter of factly, leaning over her and placing his hands on either side of her. He was so near, his loose hair tickled her face.

Made aware of her position by his nearness, she attempted to rise. He pushed her back down. "I expect payment...Miss Stark."

"I'll pay you when we get to Virginia. However much you want," she said desperately. His mouth was nearing hers. Her lips still stung from his last kiss and she wasn't sure she could endure another.

Staring into her eyes, his voice low, he trailed a finger between her heaving breast. "No, Miss Stark, you will pay me when I get to Virginia." His eyes glittered darkly. "However much I want." His meaning was quite clear as his lips crushed against hers again.

She struggled beneath him but his large body had her pinned in place. Too terrified by what he had just demanded of her, her body was numbed with shock and unable to react to his demanding kiss. Raising his head, he stared down into her stunned eyes. "I guess not tonight," he breathed, sensing he may have gone too far.

Suddenly jolting into action, she managed to push him off of her and roll away again to the far side of the bed. Wrapping a blanket tightly around herself she could only stare at him in disbelief, her eyes welling with tears. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself not to cry, not in front of him, not now.  
The sound of clothes rustling penetrated the buzzing in her head and she opened her eyes to see Sandor leaving the room. Pink rays from the rising sun poured into the cabin turning it warm and rosy, however, she felt anything but as she let the tears stream down her face.

Sandor arrived on deck and squinted into the early morning sunshine. A sudden wave of guilt crashed over him as he recalled what had just transpired between them. The look of terror in her eyes as he cruelly set his terms for payment shot a bolt of shame through him. His first urge was to go to her and apologize but he doubted she would listen to anything he had to say now and he turned his attention to the damages his ship had suffered in the storm. The crew had already begun the repairs and eager to clear his mind of thoughts of Sansa and to cool his own heated passions he joined in.

About an hour later he saw Sansa's head poke up through the opening of the stairs. He rushed over to give her a hand up the last few steps. She batted his hand away. "Don't you touch me," she hissed.

A few of the crew members turned in surprise, wondering what could possibly have happened between them.

He looked pleadingly at Sansa, saw her red swollen eyes and her pale drawn face. Ignoring the looks from his crew, he said quietly, "Littlebird, please listen to me. I'm so sorry..."

"I don't want to hear what you have to say, and don't call me that!" she spat back at him. She turned and quickly walked away knowing she was as much at fault for what had happened as he was However, she refused to feel guilty about letting him fully accept the blame. If he had behaved like a gentleman in the fist place nothing would have happened, she rationalized.

She approached a member of the crew. "How much longer is this voyage going to take?"

Delighted that she had chosen him to talk to, he said importantly, "Well, that all depends, miss. A voyage can take anywhere from six to twelve weeks. Storms, like last night, can throw ye right off course, an' no wind at all can leave us just driftin' fer days. We've been out fer five weeks now, and we're doin' well, but anythin' can 'appen."

"Thank you," she said. She turned and walked to the railing, looking out at the ocean, keeping her back to Sandor. She thought back to the crewman's words 'Storms, like last night, can throw you right off course.' He didn't know how right he was.

Sandor busied himself, supervising the crew while they replaced a badly torn sail and didn't notice when Sansa returned below deck. At dinner time he had the first mate take a tray down to her while he ate with the crew. After dinner he continued to watch over the repairs. By the time he went down to retire he was exhausted.

He tried the door of the cabin to find it unlocked. Knocking on the door he waited for her answer. "Sansa?" he called. Receiving no response, he knocked again. "Miss Srark?" he tried, thinking she might be refusing to respond to the informal name. Again receiving no response, assuming she was asleep, he slowly opened the door. The room was empty. Sandor looked carefully but she wasn't there.

Rushing back up on deck, he quickly located Simpson, who had taken a tray down to her earlier in the evening. "Yes, she was there Captain," he confirmed. Worried, Sandor searched the ship for her, asking various crew members if they had seen her. None had.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. She's mad at me, she's most likely hiding, not trusting to spend the night with me. But where is she, he wondered desperately. A sudden recollection of how she was discovered filled his mind and he realized she had most likely returned to the hold. Well, fine, let her spend a night down there if she likes, he thought. I might actually get a good night's sleep for a change. He smiled as he returned to his cabin, although his happiness was short lived as he tossed and turned trying to convince himself that she was alright.

The next morning, Sansa stood at the railing on deck watching the last of the pink sky disappear. She was breathing in the fresh morning air when she felt a hand on her arm. She was roughly spun around and found herself facing Sandor. His eyes were dark with fury. "Where were you last night?" he demanded.

Tearing her arm out of his grasp she retorted, "That is none of your business."

Moving closer to her he replied, "This is my ship, everything is my business."

"Well, not me. I am not your business." She stared at him defiantly. A thought suddenly struck her. "Were you worried about me?" she asked sweetly.

He glared at her, his hands clenching at his sides. The dancing humor he saw in her eyes only made him angrier. Even though he knew where she had slept, he had been worried. He had tossed and turned all night plagued by guilt and praying that she was all right. When he had come up on deck and found her standing at the rail he could have wept with relief. But he wasn't about to let her know that.

"You are not to spend the night anywhere on this ship other than in my cabin," he growled. "If you think my conduct was not of a gentlemanly nature, wait until one of my crew gets their hands on you. And if you insist on sleeping on your own in the hold or anywhere else, now that they know you're here, it will happen." His words sent a chill through her, but she kept her cool and refused to let it show, maintaining an icy glare at him.

Her continued defiance only escalated his anger and his anxiety for her safety. He suddenly bent and scooped her into his arms, carrying her back across the deck.

"Put me down," she hissed.

"No. If you refuse to remain in my cabin of your own will, then you will be forcibly confined there." His voice was tight and abrupt and Sansa knew he was serious.

"Put me down!" she suddenly shrieked, kicking and struggling to free herself.

The few crew members who were on deck at that early hour turned at the noise and trying to hide their laughter, eagerly watched the couple.

"Let me go!" she cried again, not ceasing her struggles. Sandor only held her tighter, ignoring her demands as he approached the hatch leading to the stairs that would take them below deck.


	10. Chapter 10

Sansa was still protesting loudly and struggling to get free of Sandor's arms when he abruptly dropped her on the bed. Flinging back her hair she jumped to her feet. "How dare you!" She raised her hand to slap him but he caught her small hand easily in his and twisting it behind her back he pulled her close to him.

As he gazed down at her, he thought it such a pity that she never looked more beautiful than when she was furious with him. Her fiery red hair in wild disarray, her heaving bosom, the color in her cheeks and of course her brilliant blue eyes sparking with fury. "Take your hands off me! You should know by now that I have no desire to be touched by you!" she spat at him.

"Listen to me you stubborn little minx," he retorted. He struggled to stay calm and not let his own mounting anger get the best of him. "I told you before that this is the safest place for you. My crew were hired for their sailing abilities, not for their gentle manners where ladies are concerned and quite frankly, there I some I wouldn't trust within a hundred feet of you. So, whether you like it or not, you will be sleeping here. With me." He pulled her tightly to him with the last words of his statement before releasing her.

She staggered away from him, her chest still heaving in self righteous anger. "You only want me here so you can extract your payment." Her voice began to rise as she berated him. "You expect me to just lay down for you, well forget it. I will not barter myself-"

"That's another thing," he said sharply, cutting off her tirade. His raspy voice softened as he continued, "I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday morning. I didn't mean what I said about you having to pay for your crossing, either in my bed or in any other manner."

Uncertainty edged out the anger in her eyes as she weighed what he had said. Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and abruptly left the room, locking the door behind him.

Sansa flopped backwards onto the bed, a huge sigh bursting through her lips. His apology played back in her mind. Realizing that what had shocked her the most when he had demanded his 'payment' was that it was so unexpected. It was completely out of character for him. But both of their emotions had been running high, both were behaving erratically, she reasoned. He had meant the apology, of that she was sure. The stress drained from her body as she forgave him and she felt a sense of peace. The first she had felt in such a long time, even before sneaking aboard his ship.

She knew it wouldn't last though. As soon as he walked through that door, as soon as she gazed into his dark grey eyes it would all begin again and most likely another incident like the last would occur. Throwing her arm over her eyes, she let out a groan. She couldn't take it anymore. But what could she do?

She again thought of Jeyne and how she would view the situation. What would her friend's advice be? Jeyne always said the most scandalous things but didn't really mean most of it. She was just as chaste as Sansa. Well, almost, she thought with a wry smile, at least before this voyage. Before she had embarked on this crazy adventure, Jeyne had always been the more daring one, the more passionate one, falling in love with a different young gentleman every week. But asides from the occasional embrace and kiss, she was as virtuous a girl as Sansa had been.

So how would her friend advise her now? Stay strong, don't let the volatile attraction you feel for each other get the best of you? Go ahead and seduce him, get it over with and then you both can get some sleep? She almost laughed out loud, thinking that is most likely what Jeyne would say, but joking of course.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, she thought, why not? The only reason to behave in Liverpool was for the sake of propriety, of not ruining one's chances of marriage. But if she made love to Sandor here on the ship, who would know? Banishing any thoughts of what would be expected of her on her wedding night when she did eventually marry, she began to concoct a plan. One that Jeyne would be proud of.

Sandor strode onto the deck, his body humming with pent up tension. Just that brief encounter had re-kindled his passion for her. Holding her in his arms as he carried her down to his cabin and then tightly against himself had been more than a little arousing. How were the two of them going to manage the next few weeks? He didn't know how much longer he could last around her, especially when she kept responding to him, melting beneath his kisses and arching against his caresses. A warmth began to spread through his limbs as he recalled the lush feel of her full breasts beneath his hands. How her pert nipples always responded to his touch and how sweet she had tasted when he sucked that tender pink nub into his mouth.

This isn't doing me any good, he thought, biting back a groan. Unbidden images of her eyes, the brilliant blue clouded with desire, her lips, slightly swollen from his kisses, breathily pleading for more, asking him to take her, to make love to her.

"Damn it," he muttered beneath his breath. He wanted her more than words could describe, but the guilt he would feel afterwards far outweighed it. She would want, would expect, marriage and he couldn't offer her that. What woman would want a husband who's away six months or even more of the year? If he married her, he wouldn't be able to stay away from her for two days, let alone half the year and being a sailor was the only thing he knew how to do. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he began to pace the ship, breathing in the salty air, letting it sweep away thoughts of her, at least temporarily.

They avoided each other for the remainder of the day, Sansa eating her meals in the cabin while Sandor ate with his crew. He found that the best way to keep her from his thoughts was physical labor and so again joined his men in repairing the damage from the storm. By the time he staggered down the stairs to his cabin, he was bone weary and looking forward to a good night's sleep. It was late and he thought she would be asleep, so was surprised to see a faint glow emanating from beneath the door.

His weariness instantly evaporated the moment he entered the room. Adrenaline surged through his veins as his heart began to pound in his chest. Blinking, he couldn't believe his eyes. Sansa lay on the bed on her side, supporting her head in one hand, her thick coppery curls spread around her. She was clad in only a thin chemise and it clung lovingly to her curves, dipping enticingly low over her full breasts, the taut nipples straining against the delicate fabric. Shifting her legs he caught a glimpse of calf and knee but it was her eyes that had him entranced. The soft light from the single lamp and her half closed lids did nothing to diminish the blazing passion burning there.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she purred, her free hand slowly stroking over her hip and thigh.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he stammered, finding it difficult to find his voice.

"Waiting for you," she again purred. The soft, low sound of her voice washed over him as his brain slowly grasped what was happening.

"It's late, you should be asleep," he said lamely.

"But I don't want to sleep." A small smile hovered on her lips as she slowly rose from the bed. Sandor suddenly found he couldn't breathe as she approached him. He watched the dim light of the lamp play upon the fabric of her chemise, changing it in turns from transparent to opaque. The beguiling glimpses of her flesh through the seductive garment caused a stirring in his body. What in the world was she doing? Did she not know that he would not be able to resist her? She must know what she's doing, he thought. There's no way she doesn't realize the effect she's having upon me. As she came closer, he momentarily wondered what his burns must look like in this light. Monstrous, he thought. 

She stood before him and without taking her eyes off his, unbuttoned his jacket and then his vest. His heart thundered beneath her hands as she slid her palms over his chest, only his shirt separating their skin.

"Dear God woman, what do you think I'm made of?" he rasped, taking in deep gulps of air as her hands slowly stroked his broad chest. "What are you trying to do to me?" 

"I should think it's rather obvious what I'm trying to do to you," she whispered, her hands wrapping around his neck, gently stroking the soft skin there. His hair tumbled to his broad shoulders as she pulled it free of its restraint. "I want you Sandor. I can't deny what I feel for you anymore, it's driving me crazy, it's driving us both crazy. Take me and end this agony." Her hands pulled at his shirt, tugging it out of his breeches.

He gripped her small hands in his. Breathing heavily, he stared down at her. "Do you really know what you're asking me? I can't offer you anything after this, I won't marry you," he said sternly, wanting to make sure she understood.

Smiling indulgently at him, she replied, "I don't want you to marry me, I only want you to make love to me. Tonight. Now." She slid her hands beneath his shirt, her fingertips stroking his soft skin.

With a growl of pure need, he gripped her arms, pulling her tightly against him and pressed his lips to hers. His hands slid down her arms to her waist, one arm wrapping around her the other hand cupping the cheeks of her behind, pulling her up, grinding his hips against her. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, seeking the sweetness there as she melted against him. He had been half expecting her to come to her senses and begin struggling but her obvious acceptance was almost more than he could bear and he knew he was past the point of no return.

He paused only to tug off his boots as her eager hands tugged open the buttons of his breeches. Stumbling backwards, they tumbled to the bed where Sandor pinned her beneath his large body. Straddling her hips, he sat up, yanking off his jacket, vest and shirt before once again leaning down to her, his lips capturing hers, demanding nothing less than full surrender and she gave herself up to him completely.

Her mind whirled, comprehending nothing but what he was doing to her, what he was making her feel. She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh and she was surprised by it. Having never witnessed a man's physical arousal before she was curious as to what it would be like, how big it would be and from what she was feeling, it was big.

Dipping his head to her throat, he inhaled her sweet scent as he placed his hand on her hip and squeezed gently, going slow with her, taking his time. Slowly, he begin gathering up the fabric of her chemise pulling the hem up, revealing her heavenly body inch by inch. He slipped his hand under it and caressed her thigh, running his hand up her leg to rest again on her hip.

She tentatively stroked the arm that was touching her, feeling the muscles and the incredibly soft skin. She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He self consciously tugged away, but Sansa gently placed her hands on both sides of his face. He flinched a little when she touched his scars, and she took notice. For a moment, the lust in her eyes was replaced by understanding. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before he began to place kisses along her jaw line and tipping her head back he again kissed her throat. His hand moved from her hip to her stomach and Sansa held her breath as his hand continued to move higher. She gasped loudly and threw her head back when his hand cupped her breast. As he gently squeezed and ran his palm over her nipple she could scarcely breathe.

"Oh, Sansa," he rasped against her skin.

She ran her hand over his shoulder and down his back, hesitating slightly before continuing lower and resting her hand on his hip, pushing down the breeches he still wore. She was relishing the swirling sensations radiating through her body. She never knew she could feel this way.

Sandor dipped his head lower and began kissing her breast. When his lips closed over her nipple she again gasped loudly. Pushing her chemise up further he turned and kissed the other breast, giving that nipple attention as well. Raising himself up, he pulled her chemise off over her head. Sansa reveled in the admiring look in his eyes as his gaze hungrily devoured her. Writing against the sheets, she pulled him down to her, their lips again meeting with a frenzy of desire.

He began to kiss her more passionately, murmuring her name, trailing his kisses lower and lower until he was kissing her stomach. Sansa trembled as his kisses trailed even lower. He began to kiss down her right thigh and then back up her left. She clutched the sheets and gasped for breath as his hands massaged and caressed her silky thighs, working their way up from her knees. When his hands reached the tops of her thighs, she held her breath.

He gently slid a finger through the soft folds between her thighs. Emboldened by how wet she was he slipped a finger inside her. She made a small sound and released the breath she was holding with a rush and writhed on the sheets as he continued to stroke her. Her breathing became ragged and she moaned loudly as his fingers touched her clit. Flames of pleasure flooded through her as he centered his attention on that sensitive mound.

When his head dipped between her legs and his mouth joined his fingers she thought she would lose her mind the pleasure was so intense. He flicked her clit with his tongue, driving her wild, causing her to cry out and writhe on the bed. Alternating between gently nibbling on the sensitive nub and suckling it tipped her over the edge and her stiffening body along with a sudden gush of wetness signified her orgasm.

She lay gasping for breath as Sandor kissed his way back up her body, tasting the salty sweetness of her sweat slicked skin. He kissed her deeply, causing her passions to again rise and swirl within her. He gently massaged her breast with one hand and with the other he guided her hand to his body. Sansa had never even seen a naked man before let alone touched one. As her hand closed around his shaft he moaned aloud with pleasure and his kisses became even more intense. He moved her hand up and down, showing her how to stroke him.

When he rolled on top of her, she became scared. She knew what was about to happen. After Jeyne's mother had had the birds and the bees talk with her, she had rushed over to Sansa's house to tell her all about it. They had talked about it for hours, wondering what it would be like and now she was about to experience it. He saw the scared look in her eyes and told her not to worry, he would be gentle.

As he first entered her, she gasped and arched her back, clutching at him. There was a sharp sting of pain but when he began to move back and forth, there was only pleasure. And what pleasure it was. Sansa could not believe that she could feel this way. As his thrusts became faster and deeper she found herself moving her hips, meeting each plunge. The pleasure continued to build, until it exploded, radiating throughout her whole body, right out to her fingertips and down to her toes. She cried out his name and dug her nails into his back and a moment later she felt him shudder inside of her and he cried out as well. As the waves of pleasure subsided, Sansa lay limp on the bed. Sandor collapsed on top of her. Both of them were panting and slick with sweat. He rolled off of her and held her in his arms, kissing her softly.

"Oh Sandor, that was amazing," she panted, her pulse still racing.

"And we're not even done yet," he whispered as his hands resumed caressing her body.

"But you..." she stammered, staring at him wide eyed.

"And I will again," he murmured, kissing her gently. "We both will."

She felt him swelling against her thigh and glancing down at his thickening manhood, she couldn't help but giggle. The giggle turned into a sigh of delight as his head again dipped to her heaving breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth. She wound her fingers into his hair holding his head to her as she again felt the warmth in her belly flare into liquid fire, the flames racing through her body.

"Tell me what to do, how to please you," she urged as his tongue flicked her hardened nipple.

"Being here with you is pleasure enough. Touching you, tasting you is all I need," he whispered.

"There must be more, show me," she pleaded. His kisses and caresses made her feel so deliciously decadent, there must be more that she could do than just lay there for him.

With a wicked grin, he gripped her hips and rolled them over so that she was on top. "Straddle my hips," he instructed.

Sitting up, she did as he directed and gazing down at his erection directly in front of her, she felt excitement bubbling within her, guessing what she was to do. For the first time, she got a good look at his naked torso. His chest, covered in dark hair, his stomach and arms covered in scars. His body made her feel so soft and feminine. A deep moan escaped his lips as she wrapped her hand around him, gently stroking him. She rose to her knees and guided him between her thighs. The tip of his cock touched her wet folds and she sighed, her head tipping back. She stroked herself with him, enjoying the sensation of his soft yet hard head sliding between her lips.

Lowering herself slightly, she guided him into her, letting just the head penetrate her. She groaned softly and glanced down at Sansa, his eyes closed and mouth open, breathing heavily beneath her. Slowly, she sank down, feeling every inch of him filling her. His hands reached up and gently squeezed her breasts, finding the nipples and tweaking them.

Grinding her hips against him, Sansa was overwhelmed by the sensations flowing through her body. Every nerve was on end, her senses overloading with the erotic messages they were sending to her reeling mind. She never dreamed she could feel like this, so wantonly sexy, so desirable and wicked.

Lifting herself up on her knees and then lowering back down, she pumped herself on Sandor's pulsing shaft. He lay back and watched this beautiful woman riding him with such abandon. Her full breasts were bouncing on her chest, her hair flying about her head as she flung it back with a loud cry. "Oh Sandor, yes, oh yes," she groaned, grinding against him, losing all sense of what she was doing her as orgasm tore through her, causing her to tremble and shake.

Without waiting for her senses to calm, Sandor quickly rolled them over and rising from her, flipped her again, onto her stomach. Pulling her hips into the air, he plunged into her with a fierce growl. He held her hips tightly as he plowed into her, his intense need for release driving him deeply into her.

Sansa lay quivering beneath him, small cries coming from between her lips and he roughly took her. She could feel another orgasm building, her body responding to his harsh treatment of her. Crying out loudly, she clutched the sheets in her fists as her insides squeezed around him repeatedly, her climaxes coming quickly, tumbling over each other, causing her head to spin.

She again cried out as she felt a sharp slap against her behind. Sandor raised his hand and slapped her again as he continued to plunge into her. He slapped her twice more before he finally reached his own release, a loud groan filling the air as he drove deeply into her one more time.

He flopped down beside her, his breathing heavy as Sansa slowly lowered her hips to the bed, her own breath coming quickly.

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until her eyelids fluttered open. The most amazing sensations were swirling through her body and looking down she saw Sandor's dark head nestled between her thighs. Her senses finally registered what was happening and gasping loudly, her back arched as her fingers wound through his hair.

Lifting his head, he gave her a wicked smile. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Wonderful," she murmured, pushing his head back down. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Ignoring her pleas, his smile widened. "How adventurous do you feel?" he asked.

Puzzled, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to do something a little wild?" he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Yes," she responded eagerly, feeling an excited tingling in her belly.

Rising from the bed, he began to dress. Picking her chemise up from the floor he handed it to her. "Put this back on." Pulling a frock coat from his closet, he handed it to her. "Put this on as well, and some shoes." The wicked smile again curved his full lips. "We're going up on deck."

Sliding her feet into her shoes, she stared up at him with wide eyes. "We're going where?" she asked, clearly alarmed.

Grabbing her hand, he opened the cabin door. "Don't worry, it's very late. Only the night watch will be up, now come on."

Quietly they climbed the stairs and leaving her just below deck, Sandor walked over to the dozing sentry and dismissed him, explaining that he couldn't sleep and would take the remainder of the watch. When he was gone he helped Sansa up the last few steps and walked with her to the huge wheel of the ship. Using ropes, it was locked on course and she ran her hands over the smooth wood.

Feelings of delicious wickedness flowed through her as she stood at the helm of the ship wearing her underclothes. Sandor turned her to face the wheel with him standing behind her. He opened the front of his breeches and lifting her chemise, he spread her legs and bent her over a bit before sliding his hardness between her thighs.

Curling her hands around the handles of the ship's wheel, she gasped loudly as Sandor slowly slid himself inside her. Even though she knew the entire crew was asleep, just the chance that some of them could be awake, could be on deck, hidden, watching them, excited her even more. Impatiently she pulled his jacket off, flinging it over the wheel. The feel of the cool night air on her bare thighs thrilled her as he began to pump in and out of her, his hands gripping her hips.

She arched her back, feeling the slight breeze pick up her hair, swirling it about as Sandor continued his gentle assault on her. Her nipples were hard and erect, straining against the sheer fabric of her chemise as she bit her lip, trying to contain the cries of pleasure that were threatening to erupt from her throat. One hand slid up from her hip, over her stomach beneath her thin garment to gently squeeze and caress her heaving breasts. With fumbling fingers, he pushed the chemise to her shoulders, baring her body to the cool night air. She suddenly felt deliciously wicked standing on deck, practically naked as Sandor, completely clothed, drove into her from behind.

"Oh Sansa, Sansa," his deep voice sang into her hair, his thrusts coming faster, plunging in deeper. He felt her begin to quiver and tremble beneath him and knew she was close to climaxing. Pressing back against him, meeting his thrusts with her hips she again felt that hot glow beginning deep in her belly. Biting back a low groan of pleasure, she ground against him, fanning the flames of the fire burning within her, feeling tendrils of that blaze flaring through her limbs as her orgasm burst forth. Sandor quickly clamped his hand over her mouth as she lost all sense of control and cried out loudly.

Her hands gripped the handles of the steering wheel, her knuckles white, her back arched, nipples dark pink and erect on her full breasts and Sandor thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his whole life. The sight was more than he could bear and his own climax claimed him, a muffled roar passing his lips as he drove into her, emptying his seed deep inside her.

Hours later, back in his cabin, the pink and gold rays of dawn awoke him. He opened his eyes to find his nose buried in a riot of copper curls, his body entwined with hers. Squeezing her gently, scenes from the previous night filtered through his mind, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

Sansa awoke slowly, feeling Sandor behind her. She could also feel his growing hardness behind her. Pressing her hips backwards she was rewarded with a low groan.

"You are a menace, Littlebird," he growled as he slid himself into her welcoming wetness.

A small cry of desire passed her lips as he entered her, her breath picking up as she began to move with him, meeting his gentle thrusts. Their lovemaking was slow and gentle this time, the urgency from the previous evening having been satiated and they climaxed together amidst low moans and sighs.

She turned and gazed at him, her sapphire blue eyes glowing with spent passion. "Good morning," he whispered, a smile tugging at his lush lips.

"Good morning," she replied, a charming blush creeping into her cheeks.

An hour later Sandor stood at the helm of his ship and couldn't help but smile. He would never be able to stand here again without recalling the sight of Sansa before him, gripping the wheel, her luscious body trembling with desire. Nor would he ever forget her hot tightness sheathing his plunging manhood in a velvet vice. His crew cast wondering glances at him but he ignored them, steering the ship to its destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord, things really heated up in this chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Talk to me on my tumblr :)  
> tumblr.com/celticwanderer


	11. Chapter 11

Sandor stood at the bow of his ship, tugging open the buttons of his breeches with maddening slowness. He gazed down at Sansa, kneeling at his feet, staring up at him with luminous eyes. The brilliant blue was filled with lust and passion, not a drop of fear or indecisiveness marring the perfection of her stare. Her smooth ivory skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, her naked body fully exposed to the cool night air.

His thoughts went back to the confrontation earlier of the day that she had first seduced him, thinking what a shame it was that she was never more beautiful than when she was furious with him. He had to amend that statement, for when she was naked at his feet eagerly awaiting a new sexual experience, she was even more breathtaking than she was when angry. The pure lust in her eyes, the trust that was there, knowing that what ever he was about to teach her was going to be wonderful.

Sansa gazed up at Sandor, fighting the urge to tear open his breeches for him. She knew he was teasing her, making her wait. He had told her that they were going to do something new and from the position she was in she had a pretty good idea of what it was. Memories of his head nestled between her thighs flowed through her mind as he finally pulled his cock from his breeches. Licking her lips she stared at it hungrily, wondering what it would taste like. His hand gently stroked the throbbing length, aiming it at her parted lips.

"What do you think we're going to do?" he whispered, his other hand tangling in her hair.

"I'm going to taste you?" she asked, not sure exactly what she was to do.

"That's right," he replied, his excitement rising, eagerly anticipating her warm mouth on him.

Tentatively she licked the large head of his dick, exploring the taste of him. A low groan slipped through his lips as she licked again, swirling her tongue around the head. Taking him in her hand, she trailed her tongue over the full length of him.

"Take me inside your mouth," he gasped. "Just watch your teeth."

Glancing up at him for just a moment, she parted her lips and slipped the head inside her mouth.

"Suck," he breathed.

She complied and was rewarded with another deep groan. Sucking him deeper into her mouth, she was encouraged to take as much as she could as he continued to make his approval known.

"Pump and suck," he instructed, his voice raw with lust.

Her head was soon bobbing back and forth over his groin, sucking him deeply into her mouth. "Oh God, Sansa, oh yes," he rasped. His desire to orgasm in her mouth was tremendous but he thought it best not to go that far her first time and gently pulled away from her.

"Oh," she pouted, looking up at him. "I wanted to taste you," she lamented.

With a groan bordering on pain, he gripped her hair in his fist and guided himself back to her eager lips. "You are going to be the end of me, Littlebird," he growled as she sucked him into the soft warm confines of her mouth.

As she eagerly pleasured his cock with her mouth, her mind again drifted to the possibility of some one watching them. Sandor had told her there was a rumor spreading amongst the men that the two of them were enjoying the solitude of the deck late at night and she speculated that that would encourage some to creep up and see if they could catch the two of them. A shiver raced down her spine to think that one or more of his men might be watching her at that very moment, naked at Sandor's fully dressed feet, sucking hungrily on his engorged manhood. At that moment, his grip in her hair tightened and with a deep moan, thrust his cock deep into her mouth he, filling that warm cavern with his seed. Gulping back every drop she neatly cleaned him off and sat back staring up at him, hoping she had pleased him.

Keeping his hand clenched in her hair, he steadied himself as he tried to catch his breath. How was he going to manage to leave her behind when they reached Williamsburg, he wondered. How could he possibly live without her sweet pleasures?

"Was that good?" she whispered shyly, licking an errant drop of milky white fluid from her lips.

"Yes, oh yes," he replied, pulling her to her feet, holding her tightly against him.

She loved being held tightly by him when he was clothed and she wasn't. Relishing the feel of rough wool, cold metal buttons and smooth braided trim against her soft skin as he pressed his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, tasting himself on her lips.

"My turn," he murmured with a wicked smile.

She wasn't quite sure what he meant as he dropped to his knees at her feet. Pulling her feet apart, he tipped his head back and buried his face between her thighs. Flinging her hair back, she had to bite her knuckles to keep from crying out loudly. Gripping his shoulders, she desperately tried to keep her balance as he drove her to the brink of sanity with his fingers and his tongue.

As she had suspected several crew members had snuck up on deck at a most opportune time and were eagerly watching the pair. They had witnessed her pleasing him and were now enjoying the spectacle of her own pleasure. Her head flung back, her flaming hair being tossed by the night breeze, her back arched, thrusting her heaving breasts forward, the erect nipples standing proudly atop the lush mounds. Sandor's hands were roughly squeezing her round buttocks as he laved her mound with his tongue.

Thinking the pair was oblivious to everything around them, one eager crew member, attempting to get a better view, emerged from his hiding place. Sansa's eyes opened at that moment and locked onto his startled gaze. A lusty smile curled her lips as she held his stare for several long moments until Sandor's tongue hit a sensitive spot and she again flung her head back with a barely muffled cry, her body tensing as she reached her climax.

An hour later the two spent lovers were catching their breath in each other's arms back in the private confines of the cabin.

"Do you like being together out on deck?" he asked her.

"Oh yes," she eagerly replied. "Very much so. It feels so wonderfully naughty," she said with a smile.

Laughing at her response, he said cautiously, "We have to be careful though. That rumor spreading amongst the crew could eventually cause some of them to come looking for us."

"But they already have," she told him, a sly smile curling her lips. "I saw one tonight."

A surge of jealously suddenly filled Sandor's chest. "You what? Saw someone? Who?" he demanded. He was surprised that it angered him so much that a man had seen Sansa as only he was to see her.

"I'm not sure who it was," she answered him, giggling at his jealousy. "It doesn't really matter. I liked that he was watching us," she finished shyly.

"You liked it?" His anger evaporated, he was so surprised by her admission. "You are turning out to be a very naughty girl indeed."

Three weeks after Sansa had seduced Sandor, he crawled into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. "Do you want to go up on deck later?" he whispered in her ear.

"No," she murmured, trying to wriggle away from him.

"You'd rather stay here?" His lips brushed her ear as he spoke in that low voice that was usually her undoing, but instead she tried to push his arms away.

"Not tonight, please," she pleaded, not looking at him.

Surprised by her coolness, he pulled back. "What's the matter?" he asked, worried he had done something.

"Nothing," she lied. "I guess I'm just tired." She was still not looking at him and he knew she wasn't telling him the truth.

Gripping her chin in his hands, he forced her to look at him. "What's going on? What's the matter?" Staring deeply into her wary eyes, he urged her, "Tell me."

Her mouth opened and then closed, her eyes looking everywhere but into his, her discomfort obvious. "It's...well...um...my monthly...um..." Her face was red with embarrassment as she tried to explain.

Comprehension swept his face as he released her chin, a smile tugging at his lips. "Ah, I see." Watching as she moved away from him, he said, "It's actually a good thing it's happened. I was beginning to wonder."

"You were?" she gasped, her eyes wide, clearly aghast that he should even think of such things.

"Well, of course. I do know about such things, and was a bit worried. You could easily explain away or even fool someone about your lost virginity but to show up in Williamsburg expecting a child would be difficult to explain or hide. When it comes to babies, people love to count on their fingers and figure out the circumstances of the little one's creation and believe me, folks would figure out that you conceived here on the ship. How would you explain that?"

She could only stare at him in utter shock as he spoke so casually about such delicate matters. Things that men should not speak of at all, especially to a woman.

"Come back here, Littlebird," he urged, his eyes laughing at her shock and embarrassment. "Let me fall asleep in your arms."

Amongst a tangle of limbs, Sandor sighed contentedly. What is this woman doing to me, he wondered sleepily, leaving the answer to his dreams to figure out.

One day, near the end of the voyage, Sandor noticed that she was lost in thought and seemed a bit depressed. They were in his cabin having just finished lunch when he gently inquired what was on her mind.

She hesitated before answering him. "It's my birthday today," she said simply. "My father always sang me a silly little song he had made up for me. This is the first year I won't hear it," she said, blinking back tears.

He stared at her tenderly. "How old are you?" he asked, suddenly realizing he didn't know.

"Twenty," she replied.

"I wish I had known it was your birthday today. We could have done something special, as it is I can't really think of anything."

"It's alright," she said, forcing a small smile.

"No, it's not. We should be able to come up with something." A smile suddenly lit his face as he rose from the table. "And I think I may have an idea." He quickly left the room and she heard him running up the stairs.

Later that afternoon Sansa was just finishing reattaching a sleeve to a shirt for a crew member when she heard a most dreadful screeching sound from the deck. She rushed up to see what was the cause of the noise and found Simpson tuning a violin. He looked up to see her pained expression and sheepishly said, "I'm afraid she's quite out of tune miss, but don't worry she'll be singin' pretty in no time."

"Are you going to be playing for us Simpson?" she asked hopefully. She suddenly realized she hadn't heard music since leaving Liverpool.

"Yes miss, me and a few of the lads will be playing tonight. We usually have a music night and we heard that today is somewhat special."

She blushed and asked, "Is this for me?"

"In honor of your birthday, miss," he replied with a small bow.

"Will there be dancing?" Sansa asked, and then suddenly realizing that her presence was a rarity she corrected herself. "I mean, I'm sure you don't usually have dancing, but tonight, perhaps?"

"Oh, no miss, there's always dancing. We just won't dance with each other. It's not really the kind of dancing you're used to. We dance to jigs and such, although I'm sure we could play some waltzes, if you'd like."

Realizing how much she had missed music and dancing, she eagerly replied, "Oh, anything at all will be fine, Simpson. I've never danced a jig, do you think one of you could teach me?"

"Oh, that would be highly inappropriate miss. A lady, like you, dancing a jig?" Simpson exclaimed, wide eyed.

"Who's going to see me? Are you going to go back to Liverpool and spread the nasty rumor amongst the genteel society that I was seen on a ship dancing a jig? And even if they did find out, so what? I'm never going to see them again!" she said joyously, suddenly realizing that it was true and finding it strangely liberating. She could do as she pleased and didn't have to worry about what anyone thought.

Simpson took a long look around the deck. "Well, if we're going to have a proper party for you, then we'll have to make tonight special." He took her arm and began leading her back to the stairs down to her cabin. "It's going to be a surprise, miss. Off you go now, and don't come up until we fetch you." he said with a broad, excited smile.

"But, what are you going to do?" she asked as she reached the stairs to take her below deck.

"You'll see miss, you'll see. No peeking, now," he admonished.

"What time will it begin?" she asked just before disappearing from sight.

"At sunset," Simpson called out.

Sunset, she thought. She had just enough time to make a few modest alterations to one of her dresses to make herself look a little fancier tonight. With some lace borrowed from a few of her undergarments and if she wore the underskirt she had abandoned since being on ship she should be able to do quite a nice job of it. She was in the midst of attaching a ruffle to her sleeve when Sandor entered the cabin.

"Well, well, it looks as though we're going to be having quite a party tonight," he said with a smile as he entered the room. "And what is it you have there? Having you been hiding a party dress this whole time, Littlebird?"

"No," she said with a smile. "I'm attempting to create one." Seeing that the sun was close to the horizon, she continued, "And I think I've managed to finish just in time."

Sandor removed a large flat box from his clothes cupboard and said, "Then I shall leave you to dress."

Sansa removed her dress and took the full underskirt out from the bottom of her bag. She shook it out and slipped it on. She then pulled the modified dress over her head. Sandor only had one small mirror which he used for shaving so she couldn't really see how she looked. She wondered if there wasn't something she could do with her hair, but without hairpins she was at a loss. With a sudden thought she dug back into her bag and pulled the silk ribbons out of every garment she could. She pulled her hair up with one and made a number of small braids intertwined with ribbon. She was able to tie some of them up and was left with a very pretty arrangement. Rather pleased with herself she sat down to wait for someone to let her know that everything was ready. She had been hearing a lot of noise and activity up on deck for the last couple of hours and was extremely curious as to what was going on.

After a few minutes there was a knock on the door and Simpson called out, "Miss Stark, are you ready?"

She opened the door and was delighted to see Simpson in his formal dress. "You look very handsome tonight, Mr. Simpson."

"And you are truly a vision of loveliness Miss Stark," he replied with a deep bow. His expression turned serious as he said, "I'm afraid some of the men are somewhat disappointed that this has turned into a more formal affair with slower music and proper dancing. I hope you don't mind a few glum faces."

"Oh no, Simpson. I don't want this to change too much just for me. You play your jigs. I'm just hoping for a few pieces that I recognize. I certainly do no want to monopolize the evening." With a sudden gleam in her eye, she continued, "Although, I think I may have just come up with an idea that might make the crew a bit happier." Taking Simpson's elbow, she said, "Shall we?"

Sansa swept on deck with a rustle of skirts and a swirl of lace. The surprised looks of admiration lifted her spirits even higher. She then noticed what the crew had done. There were lanterns everywhere. They had brought chairs from the mess hall for sitting and had even managed to arrange a small buffet with a punch bowl. They had taken the fabric from a badly torn sail and made bows to adorn the tables and chairs. Sansa turned around and around gazing with wonder at the decorations. "It's lovely. Just lovely," she exclaimed.

She then noticed the glum faces and remembered her idea. "I understand that some of you are not very happy with tonight's program," she began. "However, I'll make a deal with you. If you dance with me, I'll give you a kiss on the cheek." She looked around. "How does that sound?"

All at once the men jumped up and ran for the stairs leading to their quarters. Dismayed, Sansa turned to Simpson. "Are my kisses that distasteful?"

With a laugh he replied, "No miss. I would wager that they're all washing and shaving!"

She heard a polite cough behind her and turned to see Sandor standing before her in his formal captain's uniform. He looked so handsome, she momentarily forgot herself and just stared at him. He approached her and with a bow and said, "May I have the first dance, Miss Stark? With your generous offer to my crew I fear I may not get another chance tonight."

Looking at him warily but with a merry twinkle in her eye she replied, "I seem to remember another occasion where we danced and you behaved most improperly."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he replied with mock innocence.

With a nod to Simpson to begin, he took her in his arms and began to twirl her about the deck of the ship. Dancing with him there did indeed bring back memories of the Summer Ball and the events of that night. She remembered dancing with her father and her eyes clouded with tears.

Seeing her tears he stopped dancing and asked tenderly, "Sansa, what is it?"

"I was just remembering the last time I danced with my father, at the Summer Ball."

Looking into her eyes, he asked, "Do you want to stop?"

"No, please, continue," she said, holding up her arms for him. Firmly she said, "I refuse to think about that night for the remainder of the evening."

Sandor knew that she meant Joffrey and Meredith, but all he could think of was the way she had felt in his arms when they had danced that night and the kiss they had later shared on the terrace. He knew now what she had meant when she said that his statement about her deserving to be loved and adored by someone that she too loved and adored was a fairytale. Maybe it no longer was and she did have a chance at true happiness. He was beginning to wonder if he could be the one to give it to her.

"I'd forgotten what a wonderful dancer you are, Mr. Clegane," she said to him as they glided effortlessly across the deck.

"Why thank you, Miss Stark," he replied with a smile.

She looked up at him and remembered that during their previous dance she had been so mesmerized, she hadn't even realized at first that he was holding her so closely and so tightly. She even remembered what he had said to her when she had demanded that he not hold her so close 'You're far too delightful to hold at a distance'. She couldn't help but giggle when she recalled her fury at that statement.

"What are you giggling at?" he asked with a smile

"The last time we danced together, how angry I was with you," she said, giggling again.

"Were you? Whatever for?" he asked with mock innocence, teasing her.

"You know very well why. Your behavior was disgraceful." She tried to give him a stern look but she was having too much fun and couldn't keep from smiling.

"Ah, yes. My disgraceful behavior," he said, as if trying to recall the moment. "I'm having trouble remembering, was it something like this?" Gently he pulled her tightly to him.

With his body pressed against hers and the way he was staring into her eyes, she began to feel those butterflies again. Butterflies that always took flight when she was pressed tightly against him were fluttering about. Once again lost in the warm and inviting depths of brooding eyes, they continued to twirl about the deck and she didn't even realize when the music stopped and that they were no longer dancing until a burst of applause broke the spell. She looked around and saw that the crew had returned and was the source of the clapping. Quickly stepping out of her embrace, he took her hand and bowed over it.

Straightening, he quietly asked, "Was the offer of a kiss for a dance only open to my crew?"

Standing on tiptoe she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Captain. It was a pleasure," she said, returning his bow with a curtsey.

Not yet letting go of her hand, he asked, "May I have the pleasure of another dance later this evening?"

Remembering how that question had angered her at the Summer Ball she gave him the same response she had given him then, "With the behavior you have displayed this evening, you expect me to accept another dance from you?" she said with exaggerated indignation. "I would be delighted," she added with a giggle.

He let go of her hand and she turned to Simpson who was organizing the rest of his ragtag band. "Well, Simpson, what will it be next?" She danced four more in a row before begging a rest.

"Could one of you please get me a glass of punch?" she asked, sitting in a chair fanning herself.

A few of the crewmen looked at each other and one said to her, "Are ye sure, miss? It ain't jist punch. It 'as li'l somt'in extra, if ye know what I mean."

"Oh, well, maybe just a small glass then," Sansa said, curious as to what it would taste like.

One of the men fetched her a glass of it and she tentatively took a small sip. They all roared with laughter as she screwed up her face at the strong taste of whiskey. Feeling daring she tossed back the remainder of the drink in one shot and beamed a bright smile. This time the men cheered and applauded her. She continued to dance for the remainder of the evening and had two more glasses of punch. They even taught her how to dance a jig. She picked up the steps quite quickly and found it to be great fun.

Sansa was sitting and enjoying the cool night air, chatting with Simpson after the crew had retired and the rest of the musicians were packing away their instruments when Sandor approached her. "I believe I still have another dance?" he said holding out his hand to her.

She took his hand and rose. As she stepped into his arms, Simpson began to play. Once again they were gliding across the deck.

"Are you enjoying your birthday party?" he asked.

Smiling up at him, she replied, "Yes, thank you so much."

"It's my crew, especially Simpson that you should thank. It was his idea, and their work that made this possible," he admitted.

"I'll have to make sure to thank them in the morning," she said, still smiling. Feeling emboldened by the drinks she had consumed, she said to him, "Hold me closer."

Without further encouragement he gently pulled her to him. They twirled around the deck lost in each others eyes. He could see the passion beginning to spark there, and it warmed his own blood. They were both suddenly aware of the silence and realized that Simpson had stopped playing and was no longer on deck. They were alone.

"I think the dance is over," he whispered.

"Yes, it is," she replied quietly, not moving out of his arms.

"Do I still get a kiss if it's the second dance?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she breathed. She reached up and drew his head down to hers. He turned his head for a kiss on the cheek but she took his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers. "I think we can do better than that," and she pressed her lips to his.

Sandor immediately responded and holding her tightly, he kissed her back. Their lips moved over each others as the kiss deepened. Sansa's mind was in a whirl. All she knew was that she didn't want this kiss to end. She wanted to feel like this forever. She parted her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth. As their tongues swirled together, his hands caressed her back and her arms. Her hands wound through his hair, once again pulling it out of its ribbon. As his hair fell into his eyes, he began to laugh. "I'm going to have to cut it all off if you continue to do that," he whispered, sprinkling kisses along her cheeks.

He pulled back enough to stare into her eyes. Gently stroking her face, he pressed his lips to hers in another passionate kiss. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies, once again caressing the flesh they both knew so well. They had spent hours exploring each other with their hands, lips and tongues, discovering every sensuous curve, every erotic dimple.

Sandor knew the weight of her breasts, how they overflowed his large hands when he squeezed them, had memorized how her nipples hardened beneath his palms. He knew her musky scent when he dipped his head between her silky thighs and knew of the secret delights to be found between her sweet folds.

Sansa knew the silky soft skin that covered his well muscled body, knew how delicious it felt beneath her finger tips. She knew the length of his manhood as well as the smell and taste of it. She knew the broadness of his back and how it moved beneath her clutching hands when she lay trembling beneath him. She knew how he always flinched under her touch when she carefully cupped the burned side of his face in her hand.

Without breaking the kiss he effortlessly picked her up in his arms and carried her to their cabin. They tumbled to the bed impatiently pulling at each other's clothes. With a cry of frustration, Sandor flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips in the air. Flinging her skirts up, he soon had her pantalets yanked off and her knees spread wide.

She lay gasping beneath him, loving it when he was so aroused that he was a bit rough with her. The sound of ripping fabric met her ears as he tore his breeches in his haste to free himself of the suddenly restrictive garment.

His hands tightly gripped her hips and she prepared herself for his deep plunge into her. With a hard thrust of his hips he drove into her welcoming body, her wetness easing the way for his full penetration. Gasping loudly, Sansa ground against him, eagerly taking every inch of him deep inside her. He began to move within her, hard, fast strokes, his urgency to have her matching her own desire. He raised his hand and spanked her behind several times as he continued to roughly plow into her.

"Oh Sandor, oh yes, Sandor," she cried out as he pummeled her softness, her orgasm building deep within her, threatening to burst through at any moment. His urgency, his roughness and the spanking all worked to enhance her excitement and quickly drove her to the brink of ecstasy.

"Oh God, Sansa, you feel so good, so damned good," he growled, leaning back watching himself entering her.

With a muffled cry Sansa reached her climax, hearing Sandor's own cry of release as the sudden clutching heat of her was more than he could bear. After remaining behind her for a few lingering moments, he flopped down beside her, and she gazed at his profile, his eyes closed, lips parted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. As she slowly lowered her hips, she couldn't help but smile as he was still fully dressed, he even had his stiff formal jacket still on.

She knew they were getting close to America and that the voyage would soon be over. A sharp pain hit her stomach whenever she thought about it. She had been meaning to talk to him about it, but was afraid of his answer. Yes, he had told her weeks ago, when she had first seduced him that he wouldn't marry her, but that had been then. Surely he had changed his mind during all that time. The closeness that had developed between them had to mean something to him. Judging from how much she saw of him in Liverpool, she knew how long he stayed in port between sailings and he didn't have to go back right away. He could wait awhile before accepting another cargo shipment back to England. And during that time, they could get married and find a nice little house and start a new life in Williamsburg. She had no reason to fear what he would say, for she was sure her fantasy was his as well.

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she felt him tugging at the lacings on her dress. "What are you doing?" she asked, a sleepy smile curling her lips. He had removed his jacket, vest and boots and was kneeling on the bed beside her.

"Undressing you," he answered, returning her smile. "You don't want to sleep in your gown do you?"

"Maybe I will sleep in it," she teased, pulling the blanket over herself.

"Oh no you don't," he admonished, tugging the blanket away from her. "I want to feel your smooth skin against me as I fall asleep," he whispered, removing her dress, slowly revealing her naked body.

Rising to her knees, she knelt before him and staring into his eyes that reminded her of the storm he saved her in, began to slowly remove his clothes, revealing his body inch by agonizing inch, her fingers trailing over him with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his eyes soon blazed with passion as her teasing fingertips once again ignited his desire for her.

Hours later, as the last of the pink and orange streaks of dawn were fading away, the night watchman handed Sandor the spyglass, and squinting against the eyepiece he watched the unmistakable Virginia shoreline come into view.


	12. Chapter 12

With a heavy sigh Sandor lowered the spyglass, staring out across the ocean. The coastline wasn't visible to the naked eye, at least not yet. But within the hour it would be and soon they would be docking in Williamsburg and she would be gone. He was surprised at the emotions that flooded through him as he thought of it. Of course he had always known that eventually they would reach America and she would leave the ship but now the reality of it was here and he felt as though he had been punched in the stomach.

"Thank you," he muttered to the crew member, returning the spyglass to him. Taking a deep, steadying breath he walked across the wooden planks to the hatch leading below deck, leading him to her for the last few hours they had left.

Entering the cabin, he stood by the bed for a few moments watching her sleep. What had this woman done to him? He had had women before, women who had claimed to have loved him, women who had tried desperately to get him to marry them, but he had never loved them back. In fact, he had begun to wonder if he was capable of love, blaming the coldness in his heart on being burned and then abandoned as a child. But now, he was beginning to believe that he could love someone. But would she love him back?

Sansa's eyes fluttered open and she saw Sandor standing by the bed with a look of wonder and amazement on his face. However, his eyes held a sadness. "Good morning," she whispered.

Her words snapped him out of his trance and he smiled at her. "Good morning," he answered.

"What's wrong?" she asked, wondering about the look that had been in his eyes.

"Nothing's wrong. We've spotted land. We're close to America and should be docking later today," he said quietly.

"Today?" she exclaimed, sitting up.

He gazed at her and felt something hurting deep inside him. She was so breathtakingly lovely. Her eyes were wide with the excitement of the news, her hair in wild disarray, the fiery curls trailing everywhere it seemed, and as she hadn't bothered to pull up the blankets, he could see a pink nipple winking at him through the coppery strands.

Impulsively he pulled her to him. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a sudden fear creeping through her.

"Well, during the unloading and loading of the ship, I'll be extremely busy and then I'll be gone. I won't really have a chance to see you after you disembark," he explained.

"You're leaving right away?" she asked with alarm.

"Well, yes, but it's-" he started to explain but she cut him off.

"You're just going to leave me here? All alone? Just like that?" she almost shouted at him. "You're just going to dump me off on the dock and sail away without a backward glance or a second thought! And to think I was actually beginning to believe that you cared for me. You've used me this entire time, haven't you? Used me to satisfy your sick carnal cravings. You really are horrid! I'm glad we'll be docking soon, so that I never have to lay eyes on you again!" She burst into tears and collapsed onto the bed.

"Littlebird, please..." he said gently, touching her trembling shoulder.

"Don't touch me and don't call me that!" She shouted at him. "Just leave me alone!"

He knew he couldn't reason with her so he left her alone to cool off. He would try again later. He dejectedly climbed back up on deck and from the looks he received from some of the crew he knew they had heard her accusations.

He went back down to their cabin a few hours later to find her packing her bag. "We'll be docking soon and I was wondering if we could talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You'll be rid of me soon enough and then you can start work on your next conquest." She didn't look at him, but continued gathering her few belongings together, checking to make sure she hadn't lost any of the jewelry or money she had brought with her.

"Sansa, I told you weeks ago that I can't marry you. I'm sorry if you thought I had changed my mind, but I haven't. And I had assumed you would know that I have to go back to Liverpool. That's my home." He was trying to explain, trying to make her realize that her accusations were wrong, but he could tell she wasn't listening to him. "Littlebird, please listen to me."

Seeing that she had all her belongings, she picked up her bag. Brushing past him she said, "Don't call me that." And without a backward glance she went upstairs to wait on the deck. She was eager to see her new home and to get off this boat.

Sandor sat down in the his chair, racking his brain, trying to think of a way to convince her that he loved her. Yes, damn it, he finally admitted to himself, he loved her. But if he just came out and told her she wouldn't believe him. But if he didn't do something quickly he was going to lose her forever. A thought struck him and he quickly ran up to the deck and located Simpson. "Simpson, do you know if any of the men would be interested in staying in America. I want someone reliable and trustworthy to keep an eye on Sansa for me."

Simpson thought for a moment and said, "Yes, actually, Bronn had mentioned something about it."

Sandor had known Bronn for a few years now. He worked his way up on the ship, and proved to be a trustworthy, and good friend. "Perfect. Where can I find him?"

"He'll be down in the hold, captain, preparing the cargo for off loading."

Without another word Sandor raced for the hold. With the shore fast approaching he didn't have much time.

Dropping down into the gloom of the hold, he quickly located Bronn and outlined his plan. The man agreed. He didn't have a family, or much a a home back in Liverpool. Sandor offered to help him get set up but first and foremost he had to leave the ship with Sansa and find out where she went and report back before they set sail for England in a couple of weeks. During that time, he had to locate a bank and set up an account for Bronn. He was going to be very busy. He sent the sailor off to collect his belongings.

A few minutes later Bronn joined Sansa at the railing of the ship. His greasy brown hair shone in the sunlight. "Aren't you excited miss? A whole new world is waiting for us." His wolfish features changed into a grin.

Sansa looked at the crew member. He was taller than her, and older, she guessed Sandor's age. She had spoken with him a few times during the crossing, and enjoyed his company. Noticing the large duffel bag he carried with him, she inquired, "You're staying behind Bronn? You're not sailing back to England?"

"Oh no, miss. I was just working my way across."

You and me both, she thought grimly.

"I don't know if you know anybody over here, miss, but I certainly don't and I was wondering if you'd want to stick together for a bit." He smiled. "I was just thinking it's always nice to have a friend around in a strange place. And no offence miss, but you being a lady and all, it might be helpful to have a man, such as I am, to travel with."

He did seem sincere, although given her recent experiences she remained suspicious of him. He did, however, present some good points. Who knew what awaited her out there? If she kept her wits about her and didn't fall for any dreamy eyed stares or flattery she would be fine. "All right, Bronn. We'll venture out into this new land together." She held her hand out for him to shake which he did eagerly.

"Capital, miss, just capital!"

"And Bronn, please, call me Sansa."

"Are you sure, miss? I don't want to seem too familiar." And he knew he didn't want to face Sandor's wrath if he thought he was flirting with his girl. 

"It's fine, really."

"Alright...Sansa," 

Sansa turned her attention back to the shoreline as they navigated into the busy harbor. She didn't notice Bronn turn to Sandor, who stood watching them, and give him a quick nod.

Sandor breathed a sigh of relief knowing that at least she wouldn't be alone and that he wouldn't lose track of her.

When the ship docked at Williamsburg, he wondered if he should speak to her one last time. As the gangplank was being set in place she was the first in line to get off the ship. She turned briefly and looked at him, but he couldn't read her expression. He tried to smile but she just turned and walked off.

As Sansa walked down the gangplank and into the frantically busy harbor, it took all of her resolve not to burst into tears and rush back to Sandor. She was dreading having to start again in this strange place. She should have stayed in Liverpool, she thought to herself. At least there, she knew what she was in for. But Bronn's irrepressible excitement was contagious and she soon found her dark cloud lifting.

They found a number of carriages for hire at the dock and she asked one to take them to a reasonable hotel. The one they were taken to was right in the middle of town and it seemed comfortable enough. For the sake of propriety, they took separate rooms on separate floors and once they were each settled, they met in the dining room for something to eat and set out a plan for what they were going to do now that they were here.

"I don't really know Sansa. I haven't really given it much thought."

"It was your plan to come here, you made arrangements with Mr. Clegane to work your passage, yet you hadn't given any thought to what you would do once you arrived?"

"I guess I figured something would just come up." Bronn smiled, confident in his lies. He was used to lying to men, had done it all his life, so it came naturally to him, though he felt bad doing it to Sansa. She had been nothing but kind to him, but it was his Captain's wish. He knew she'd had a row with the Captain several hours before they docked. The whole crew could hear her shouting at him. She sure was angry at him about something. "Well, let's see, I know a bit about farming. We could try that. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, Bronn. All is know how to do is be a lady. I've lived in the city my whole life, in a house, with servants. I don't know how to do anything. But if you show me, I'm sure I can learn. We can give it a try." She was trying to sound optimistic but quite frankly she didn't hold out much hope of them making a go of it.

That night as Sansa lay in bed she found sleep to be elusive. She was surprised to find that she missed the gentle rocking of the ship and the still bed would take some getting used to again. She hated to admit it but she also missed Sandor. She missed laying in bed watching him work at his large table, plotting out their course and keeping them on track. She remembered the way the muscles in his legs moved as he walked around the table. They way his breeches hugged his thighs and how his shirt stretched across his back. She also missed sharing his large bed with him. She allowed herself a small smile as she recalled her initial horror at having to do so.

She shifted uncomfortably as other memories drifted into her mind. The night of his unsuccessful seduction and then the night that she had finally seduced him. The hours they had spent in bed together, making love and the times they had snuck up on deck and enjoyed the moonlight. The night of her birthday party...had they danced about the deck only last night? It seemed an eternity. A tear slipped down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily. He was not worth her tears. She would put him out of her mind and get on with her life. She rolled over again and eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

After a couple of days of familiarizing themselves with Williamsburg and the surrounding farming options, Bronn had come up with a reasonable and mostly true reason for going back to the ship so that he could report to Sandor, and since he doubted that Sansa would want to see him, he didn't have to worry about her coming along.

"Sansa, I've written a letter to my sister, letting her know I won't be returning home. Captain Clegane is going to bring back to England for me. Do you have any letters you'd like to send?"

Sansa thought she should write to Jeyne and let her know that she had arrived safely. She would love the twist in the tale that Sandor Clegane turned out to be the captain of the ship. However, she was afraid that he would read the letter and maybe not deliver it. "I think I'll write a letter later and take it to one of the other ships. Thank you for asking though."

"I can take your letter to another ship if you like. It's no bother."

"Are you sure, Bronn?"

"Yes, Sansa. I just don't think the harbor is a particularly safe place for a lady by herself, no matter what the time of day. But I'm used to harbors and sailors, so if you have a letter I can take it with me."

"All right, if you can wait a few minutes." She sat down and tried to tell Jeyne the whole story of being caught stealing food, and discovering that Sandor was the captain and how he had tricked and used her and now she was stuck in this strange town where everything was different. She was certain that the letter was going to make even Jeynes hair curl when she read it. She also asked to let her know what was happening in regards to her disappearance especially where Joffrey was concerned. She folded the letter and put it in an envelope which she addressed to Jeyne.

"Here you go Bronn. I do appreciate you doing this for me."

"It's no problem." He left the hotel and headed for the harbor where Sandor was anxiously awaiting him.

"She hardly mentions you Captain. I can see that she's not happy and I think she wishes she was back home in England. She has this letter that she wants to send. I told her that I would send it on another ship and not give it to you. I don't think she trusts you to not read it."

Sandor took the letter from him and recognized the name of Sansa's flirtatious friend. Thankfully there wasn't a letter to Joffrey. He would find Jeyne and deliver the letter personally. Maybe he could find out a little more about Sansa, if Jeyne was willing to talk.

"So, Bronn, what are her plans?"

"Well, I told her that I know quite a bit about farming, which I do, and we're thinking of trying that. She said that all she knows how to do is be a lady, but that she would try her hand at it."

He looked sharply at the young man. "You said 'we'. You're going to do this together?"

"Is that alright?" Bronn raised an eye brow.

"That's more than alright. I'm glad she has a good man around her," he replied with a relieved smile.

"I'll be honest, Captain. The lies are starting to get alittle confusing. What if she finds out and runs away?"

"Blame it all on me, she already hates me," he said with a sad smile.

Bronn looked down and nodded"Well, I guess I should be going. I don't want her to get suspicious if I'm gone too long."

"Thank you for letting me know how things are going. I appreciate it. There's an account set up in your name at the bank in town. I think there should be enough for you to get settled." Bronn smiled, in thanks. "Well, good luck to you both. And before you go, you should find the name of a ship in the harbor that is sailing in the next couple of days to England in case she asks which one her letter is on."  
Bronn nodded, and gave Sandor a pat on the back before leaving the ship.

Sansa and Bronn were at the court house checking the availability of land that they could buy. This was the third time they had been to check and Sansa was beginning to lose hope that they would find anything. They didn't have much money but she had her diamond ring which she was sure she could get enough money for. She just had to find a place to sell it. As they were checking the notices a clerk came up and placed a new one on the board. 150 acres for $400. There was a map indicating that the lot was on the James River in Charles City County bordered by other farms. Sansa wasn't sure how much $400 was, as she was used to pounds but she thought 150 acres was a good size.

"What do you think, Bronn? Is 150 acres a good size to start with?"

"It's not much. But I guess to start with, while you're learning, it's good." He said assuringly.

She asked the man posting the sign how to get in touch with the seller.

The man nodded his head towards another, "He's right over there miss."

"Thank you." Sansa started towards the man, but Bronn put his hand out in front of her. "It's best, I talk to him."  
Sansa agreed. As they approached him, she didn't think the chances of trading her ring for the land were very good. He was old and looked worn out. His hair was long and thin and he hadn't shaved in days. The lines were deeply etched on his face and his clothes were patched and dirty. He didn't look like the type who could use fancy jewelry. What have I got to lose she thought.

"Hello, sir. I understand you're selling 150 acres," Bronn, held his head high.

The man looked them both up and down. "Yep."

"Well, we were wondering if you would be willing to trade for the land."

"Who'er you?" he asked.

"I am Bronn Reyne, and this is Miss Sansa Stark. And you are?"

"Otis Green"

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Green," Bronn replied, holding out his hand for the man to shake.

Ignoring his extended hand, Otis asked suspiciously, "What'er ya got?"

"A six carat diamond ring," Sansa replied.

"Now, what would I want wi' dat?" he scoffed. He appeared to be uninterested, but the look in his eye told her otherwise.

"Well, you could sell it, or give it to someone...," Sansa said.

He began to chuckle. "Give it t'someone! Now, dat's a good'un!" He continued to chuckle.

"Well, then, I guess, just sell it," she replied tersely.

He stopped laughing and looked at them again. "Lemme see it"

"Oh, I don't have it with me," Sansa said. not eanting to rish having it stolen.

"Well, I ain't gonna sell my land fer a diamond wi'out seein' it first. It could jist be a piece o' glass. Where is it?" he asked.

"It's in a box at the bank. Why don't we go there and you can look at it," Sansa suggested.

"But I ain't gonna know a real diamond from a fake," he said.

Sansa asked, "Is there an appraiser in town, or someone else who would know?"

He thought for a moment and then said, "Well, I guess ol' Freddy could take a look-see at it. I'd trust his word."

"We'd like to see the land first as well," Bronn smirked. 

"Why don't we go an' have a look then? Ya got horses?" he asked skeptically.

"No, we'll take a carriage and meet you there," Sansa said.

Twenty minutes later they were standing outside a large, old, run down house next to a barn that was in only slightly better condition. Behind the house were the stables and they mirrored the condition of the other two buildings. Sansa's heart sank. Bronn ignored the buildings and headed straight for the fields. Sansa followed him as he knelt down and dug his hands into the soil.

"Oh, it's good Sansa," he said, rolling the black dirt around in his hands. He looked up at her with a big smile and repeated, "It's very good."

While Sansa waited with the carriage, Otis gave Bronn a tour of the farm, showing him where everything was. When they returned he took Sansa aside. "This would be a good place to start," he said happily. "We can fix up the house and the barn. Then, if we have to, we can build a nicer house later." Looking around he said, "Yes, it could be just grand."

Bronn walked over to Otis. "Why don't we meet you and Freddy at the bank in half an hour? And you'll bring the papers for the land with you?" he suggested.

"Yep," he replied and walked back to his horse.

She looked hopefully at Bronn. "This just might work," she said.

Forty-five minutes later, under the close supervision of the bank manager, Freddy examined the ring. His grizzled old head was bent over the sparkling stone, squinting into the loop he held to his eye, he then held it up to the light. "It's the real thing Otis. A real beauty she is. Yer gettin' quite a bargain. You should mebbe toss in a li'l something extra fer these nice folks."

"How much extra?" Otis asked.

"I'd say the farmin' equipment," Freddy replied.

"The farmin' equipment?" he exclaimed "Are ya outa yer mind? Ya know how much dat's worth?"

"Not as much as this here diamond," Freddy said quietly. "'Sides were ye plannin' on usin' it agin'?"

"Well, I was gonna sell it at auction. This'll save me the trouble." Looking at Sansa and Bronn he said, "Miss Stark, Mr. Reyne, ya got yerself a deal."

Sansa wanted to jump up and kiss the man, she was so happy. But she remained calm and they signed the papers right there in the bank. She handed Otis the ring and the man tossed it in the air and caught it in his hand. As he turned to leave she thought she heard him mutter, "Only treasure I'll ever see."

The land was hers, she could hardly believe it. She had never really owned anything before. Not real and properly like this. Yes, this just might work, she thought to herself.

They stayed in the hotel that night, but Sansa was so excited she couldn't sleep. She went to the window and looked out at the night. Looking up at the stars, she thought about Sandor. She knew his ship had sailed that day. Even though she was still angry with him, there was a small part of her that missed him, that had hoped he would come to her and announce that he wasn't leaving, that he would stay with her.

Well, I don't need him, she thought to herself. I'm going to be just fine without him.

She couldn't help but wonder if he thought about her. Probably not, she thought, he most likely can't even remember my name.

Sandor sat at the desk in his cabin staring at the letter from Sansa to Jeyne. They were already miles from port, although he could still make out the shoreline through his porthole. He turned the envelope over and over in his hands. He traced his fingers over her delicate handwriting. He was tempted to open it. He slipped a finger under the flap, hesitated and then withdrew his finger. He held it up to the light hoping to make out some writing, but there were too many sheets. What had she written? Surely, she had written about him. But, then again, maybe not. Maybe she was ashamed to tell even Bronn about what had happened between them. How she felt that he had tricked her, used her. The envelope was thick. Perhaps she had made up a story about the voyage. He put the envelope in a drawer of his desk, vowing to deliver it intact to Jeyne himself. He would enlist her help in winning back Sansa's heart. That is, if he could convince Jeyne of his love for her friend after she had read the letter.

He looked over at the bed and sighed. He knew he should retire, it was late, but ever since Sansa had left the ship he just tossed and turned all night. He missed being awoken by her in the night. He was also tormented by other thoughts of her. Remembering her scent, the way she tasted, the way she had felt under his hands. And the way her hands, mouth and body had made him feel. He couldn't stand at the helm without being plagued by visions of her bent over, crying out her passions as he entered her. As a matter of fact he couldn't go anywhere on deck without memories of her naked skin gleaming in the moonlight flooding his mind.

He had tried to explain, tell her why he was leaving so soon. Usually he stayed awhile in Williamsburg. It was a bustling town and he enjoyed seeing it grow, changing each time he arrived. This time though, he had already arranged for an immediate shipment back. The assignment to come here had been set before he had met Sansa and since he couldn't get out of it he had arranged to come back as soon as possible, so that he could see her again. But she had already made up her mind about him, convinced that he had used her, and he knew it would be a waste of breath trying to alter that opinion.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep any time soon. He went up on deck and looked up at the stars. He wondered if she was looking up at them also. She's probably sound asleep, not thinking about me at all, he thought.


	13. Chapter 13

Early the next morning, Sansa and Bronn hired a carriage and headed out to their new home. They were armed with a huge amount of soap, furniture oil, buckets and rags. Using oil lamps to guide their way they slowly explored the house. Sansa groaned inwardly at how filthy it was. This is going to be a lot of work, she thought. Although it might be just the thing to keep at bay the unwanted memories of Sandor that kept flooding her mind.

After an initial inspection of the main floor, which contained a magnificent two story foyer, a sitting room, a music room, an extensive library and a grand ballroom, they returned to the foyer. Sansa opened a door in the far wall to reveal a large kitchen. Most of the items inside were covered in dust. It appeared that Otis hadn't had any house servants and that he was a very modest cook. As they wandered about, inspecting the facilities of the kitchen, Bronn called her attention to a trap door in the floor.

"This might be a celler." he called.

He bent down and pulled on the ring, easily lifting the door up. He swung the other side open and they peered down into the dark. Damp, musty smelling air wafted up. They could see a short flight of stone steps descending down. "It doesn't smell too bad. That's a good sign," he said with a smile. He picked up the lantern and proceeded down the steps, holding out his hand for Sansa to take as she follwed him down. The cellar was quite large, appearing to be about half the size of the house. The ceiling was supported by heavy wooden posts. They hung their lanterns on hooks that had been attached to the posts and began to look around.

There were several crates that had been pushed into the center of the large room. One held sacks of sugar, and bundles of ginger, cinnamon, and other spices. They also found several crates of rum, brandy, and wine. One of the crates of rum was almost empty showing Otis' apparent preference for the drink. Other trunks and crates held a wide assortment of household items. They climbed back upstairs and into the kitchen.

"It appears we have a few luxury items," Sansa commented as Bronn closed the trap doors.

"I wonder why Otis would buy those things," Bronn pondered. "And why all the brandy and wine when he clearly favored rum?"

"Like you said, he's a strange man," she replied, shaking her head.

Back in the foyer, Sansa stared up into the darkness at the top of the stairs. "Let's see upstairs, shall we?" Holding the lamp up high she started up the stairs. 

At the top of the stairs she turned to the left. She was facing a hallway with several doors opening off it. The walls were heavily paneled and just as dirty as the others on the floor below. The doors opened onto three bedrooms, one facing the front of the house and two facing the back. They made their way back down the hallway and into the ballroom. The mezzanine only covered the back wall, but had two sets of french doors that opened onto a long balcony.

"Well Sansa, I think it's a fine house," Bronn commented as they headed back downstairs. "It needs a good cleaning, and the outside needs some fixing up, but it appears to be fully furnished and structurally sound. I think it may have been quite grand at one time."

Sansa smiled at his words. "Yes, and it will be grand again, once I get through with it." At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, and took a look around the main room, imagining the possibilities. "Well, Bronn shall we get started returning this house to its former glory?" she asked as she headed outside to retrieve her trunk of cleaning supplies.

They started with the sitting room and the sun was low in the sky by the time they had finished cleaning it. They pushed the furniture into place and put candles in the wall sconces. She flopped down on one of the floral tapestry couches and admired their work. The bright and sunny yellow room was very pretty.

"What do you think we should call our farm? It doesn't appear to have a name and it should. Do you have any ideas?"

He thought for a moment and then suggested, "How about Aurora, because that's where we met?"

She was unsure if she wanted to be constantly reminded of the ship all the time. Although, she did like the name, and she could give it a new meaning. "I like it. Aurora it is then," she declared.

They were both exhausted when the carriage returned to collect them. They both went to their rooms at the inn and ordered baths. Afterwards they had a sumptuous dinner in the hotel's dining room. It was a luxury but after the work they had put in that day they figured they deserved it.

They returned early the next morning eager to get to work. They repeated the cleaning process with the music room. When they had finished and she was relaxing on one of the couches he surprised her by sitting down at the piano and playing a lively tune. "Bronn, I didn't know you could play!" she exclaimed when he had finished.

"Aye. My mother taught me when I was a wee lad." He proceeded to play a more classical piece, his fingers dancing along the keys. "It's in pretty good shape. It needs a tuning, but I can do that later."

"You are full of surprises!" Sansa smiled at him.

With that, he set off again, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys.

It was early September and even though the house wasn't completely ready, they moved in anyway. It had taken two full weeks of cleaning before they were ready to leave their lodgings at the inn. Bronn insisted that Sansa take the grand front bedroom and he would take the one on the other side of the hall.

"Perhaps we should convert one of the rooms downstairs into a bedroom? It doesn't seem proper that I sleep just across the hall from you without anyone else in the house."

"I'm sure it's fine Bronn. Anyway, I feel safer with you across the hall. And if anyone says anything, I'll just say we're cousins," she said with a smile.  
"Aye." He laughed. "And you got the good looks."  
That night as Sansa lay in the large four poster bed in her bedroom she almost felt like she was back in Liverpool. Her mind drifted to thoughts and memories of Jeyne. She wondered how her friend was faring on her own. Without Sansa to keep rein on her she was probably flirting with all the men in town and had most likely received half a dozen marriage proposals. She only hoped Jenny would fare better in the game of love than she had.

Her thoughts then turned unwillingly to Sandor. She had resisted reliving memories of him but tonight it seemed she was unable to push the thoughts and images away. She squeezed her eyes shut but all she could see were his grey stormy eyes glowing with passion. He once again was holding her down on the bed of his cabin telling her that he was the one to show her what a real kiss was. She felt her breath coming faster as she recalled the feel of his tongue in her mouth, touching her own. Then the unbidden memories of their lovemaking flooded her mind.

Her hands slid across her stomach as she felt the familiar ache of desire curling through her body. Slowly she trailed her fingers over her thighs, dipping her hands to the tender insides as her legs opened. Memories of standing at the helm of his ship, gripping the worn handles of the big wheel as he entered her from behind edged into her mind. Tentatively she slipped one finger into the nest of curls between her thighs and closing her eyes, sighed as she gently stroked herself, calling up memories of Sandor's fingers touching her there. A loud gasp burst through her lips as her finger touched her clit causing her back to arch. Her fingers returned to the sensitive spot and writhing on the bed, she quickly stroked the hardening nub. The other hand slid upwards to cup her breast, finding the nipple and tweaking gently.

Squirming on the bed, she turned her face into the pillow to muffle the cries coming from her lips. "Oh Sandor," she murmured, recalling the night she had stood at the bow of his ship, trembling with the delights of his tongue between her thighs. Her hands became more insistent, rubbing faster and squeezing harder. Her thighs began to tremble and clench as a delicious heat spread through her body, tingling her senses just before the orgasm broke free, ripping through her body, leaving her damp and breathless on the bed.

After the glow of climaxing had passed, she curled into a ball beneath the blankets, allowing tears to overtake her and wondering if any man could ever make her feel like that again. She tossed and turned restlessly for a long time before sleep finally claimed her.

A week later they decided to explore what was behind the four dormer windows on the top floor of the house. There was no obvious staircase but since many houses had hidden passages for servants to move about unseen they set out to find it. After an extensive search, they finally found the small catch hidden in the doorframe of Sansa's bedroom and the staircase that led up the top floor.

After investigating the four small bedrooms that held the dormer windows and concluding they were servant's quarters, they went back into the short hallway that held the entrance to the stairs and paused before the closed door at the other end. "I would suspect that this is the attic," Bronn said as he turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open.

A large open room spread out before them. Three large windows on the far wall illuminated the heaps of trunks, crates and discarded furniture. There were sofas with velvet cushions, a wardrobe with a broken leg, rolls of carpets and other items covered with dust sheets.

Sansa began picking her way forward to inspect some of the items. As she neared some of the furniture she noted that the cushions had been slashed open and the stuffing torn out. She turned around and saw that all the stuffed furniture was in the same condition. As she continued to look more closely she saw that every crate had it's lid pried off and some of the contents were strewn about. The trunks were the same.

"Bronn, look at this. What happened?"

"It appears that someone was looking for something. Something that they suspected was hidden."

"But what? What would be hidden in the seat of a chair?" she asked, touching the torn velvet of a high backed chair.

"I don't know las. But if it was Otis, it seems like another strange thing for him to have done."

They continued their inspection of the attic and Sansa came across several trunks full of bolts of fabric. She recognized silks, satins, taffetas, velvets, and damasks, all of different colors and weights. She found another trunk full of beautifully intricate and delicate lace and satin ribbons. She could have a whole new wardrobe she thought excitedly.

"Bronn, do you think we could set up one of the servant's rooms as a sewing room for me? There are some beautiful fabrics up here and the light in those rooms is perfect. It would give me something to do during the winter." She looked at him hopefully.

 

"Of course we can. I may even be able to knock down a wall between two of them to make you bigger room."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!"

They both froze at the sound of a loud rumble. They looked at each other and laughed. They had been so excited about finding the secret stairway that they had forgotten about lunch and their empty stomachs were reminding them. "Lets take some of these rolled up carpets with us. I think they would be very nice downstairs."

As they sat in the kitchen eating their lunches and discussing what they had discovered upstairs they heard a woman's voice calling them from the front hall. As they entered the foyer from the kitchen they saw a woman wearing a frilly bonnet poking her head in the front door. She was rather plump with a round, eager face and appeared to be in her mid-thirties.

"Oh, hello," she called. "I heard that we had new neighbors and I'm just calling to say hello and welcome. My name is Agnes Baelish. My brother and I live on the next farm. I hope you don't mind me just dropping by and I'm sorry for opening your door but nobody responded to my knocks and the door was unlocked," she said in a rush.

"My name is Bronn Reyne and this is my cousin Sansa Stark," Bronn replied.

Sansa invited Agnes in. "Would you like to come in? The house isn't really ready for visitors but we can go into the sitting room," she said indicating the sunny room off the foyer.

"Oh my, you're British aren't you?" Agnes happily exclaimed, hearing their accents. "How long have you been in America?"

"Only for about a month. Since the end of July," Sansa responded, sitting on the couch. Bronn stood behind her, putting his hand protectively on her shoulder.

"And you've bought Otis' farm. Well, well," she said, almost nervously, looking around. "I always wondered what the house looked like from the inside. He wasn't very sociable you know. We invited him to our home on many occasions but he never came." She continued on peering about, trying to see into other rooms.

"I can see that you're curious about the house Miss Baelish and I would love to give you a tour, but Bronn and I are still cleaning it up and getting things organized. Mr. Green left it in terrible condition."

"Have you been up to the attic?" she asked eagerly. "Many of these older homes have quite a bit of furniture and so on in the attics, in case you need a few more pieces."

"Yes, we went up to the attic this morning and there is quite a bit of furniture and such up there. We haven't had a chance to sort it all out yet," Sansa said, noticing the woman's odd excitement about the attic. For some reason she didn't want to mention the hidden stairway.

"You...you did? This morning?" she asked, seeming flustered. Recovering herself, she said, "Well, that's wonderful. I hope you're able to fill the place out nicely." She seemed momentarily distracted but then continued on. "You must come to dinner at my brother's house. In two weeks time we're having a dinner party with some of the other land owners in the area and I insist that you come. I won't take no for an answer."

"That's very kind of you Miss Baelish. We would be delighted," Sansa replied.

"Wonderful! Well, I shan't take up any more of your time and I really must continue my errands," Agnes said, gathering her shawl and moving towards the door. She suddenly seemed in a hurry to leave. "I'll drop by next week with directions to our farm. Good afternoon." She practically ran to her carriage and climbed in.

Bronn and Sansa stood on the front porch watching the dust caused by her departure. "Well, she was batty." Bronn laughed.  
Sansa nodded. "Indeed..." She turned to Bronn and looked him up and down. "We'll have to go into town and get you a suit.  
"What makes you think I don't have one?"  
Sansa raised her eyebrow. "We'll go tomorrow. And as for a gown for myself, I'll need that sewing room sooner than I thought," she said brightly. She loved Bronn's company but she longed to be around other people too. A trip into town would be very pleasant.

That afternoon they carried one of the carpets into the ballroom and rolled it out to take a good look at it. It was a beautiful Indian carpet that would be perfect for the music room. As it finished rolling out, a large sheaf of papers appeared. They both stared at them. Bronn went over and picked up the roll and laid them out on the floor.

"These look like the plans of the house and grounds." he said. He found the one of the second floor of the house and laid it out. The hidden staircase was clearly marked. "Now, why couldn't these have been left down here?" he asked with a smile.

 

The next morning Sansa sat next to Bronn in the front of the cart as they went into town. They quickly located the tailor and ordered Bronn his formal suit.

"Let's go to the mercantile Bronn. There are few things we need for the house," Sansa said as they stepped out into the sunlight.

The bell jingled merrily as they stepped into the crowded store. Sansa loved the mercantile store. They sold almost anything you could imagine. She was browsing amongst the gloves and bonnets, when one in particular caught her eye. It was a beautiful green velvet with ornate decorations and wide satin ribbons. It reminded her of the one she had bought shortly before running away from Liverpool. She put it on her head and tied the ribbons beneath her chin. "Bronn, what do you think?" she asked.

When she didn't receive a response she looked up at him. She gave him a nudge and asked again. He was staring, transfixed, at the front counter. When she turned to see what was holding his attention, she couldn't help but giggle. Behind the counter was lovely young woman. She was about eighteen years old with golden blonde hair and big blue eyes. She had a slim figure and when she smiled at the customer she was tending to, two charming dimples appeared in her rosy cheeks. Sansa could see from the look in Bronn's eyes that he was utterly enchanted.

"Bronn," she sang quietly to him, giving him a shake.

"Have you ever seen anyone so lovel, las?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the girl.

"She certainly is very pretty. Why don't you go talk to her? Ask her where the men's hats are. Ask for her assistance in helping you pick one out. After all you will need one for the Baelish's party." When he didn't move she nudged him again. "Go on," she said gently.

"No." Bronn looked away from the girl. "I've been with women before, but not one like that."

"Then I'll ask for you," she said sailing past him.

He looked horror stricken and reached out to grab her arm but she skipped out of his reach and was soon at the counter. "Excuse me, my cousin here, Mr. Reyne, requires a hat suitable to wear to a dinner party. Do you have something for him?" Sansa watched as the young woman's eyes met with Bronn's. She stared at him for a moment before blushing prettily and looking away.

"Yes, miss, this way." she said quietly. As she led them down an aisle towards the hats, Sansa looked at Bronn with a smile.

They reached a counter in the back of the store that was lined with hats. "Was there a specific color or style that you had in mind?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. What kind of hat would you like Bronn?" Sansa asked cheerfully.

He was staring at the counter top and said quietly, "Um...blue? To match the suit."

"Yes, we'll start with blue. Dark blue," Sansa said.

"Do you know what size you require?" the girl nervously asked him.

"I'm afriad not, las. Though I've been told I have a large head, so the biggest size you have!" He, and the girl laughed nervously.

"I'm afraid my cousin is acquiring his first formal wardrobe and hasn't been measured for these things. Would you mind, Miss...?"

"Tyrell. Margaery Tyrell." She picked up a tape measure and coming around the counter she approached Bronn. He was still staring at the counter. "Could you please turn this way, sir?" she asked shyly.

Bronn slowly turned towards her. He looked down into her clear blue eyes and was once again transfixed. Margaery reached up and wrapped the tape around his head. Her hand brushed his temple and he sucked in his breath. She noted the measurement and darted back around the counter.

"Well dear cousin, you seem to be in excellent hands here, I'm going to continue browsing. Come find me when you're done," Sansa said with a wide smile. Bronn gave her a look, which told her she would get an earful once they returned home, but she did not care.

She looked over at Bronn and Margaery every once and awhile and noticed them both alternately staring and looking away from each other. Her happiness for Bronn was momentarily overshadowed by thoughts of Sandor. She had thought that he had been falling in love with her but she had been so wrong. She had been so busy the last few weeks hoping that hard work would keep thoughts of him at bay but she still found them intruding when she least suspected it.

With Margaery's help, Bronn found a very nice hat. All the way back to the farm in the cart he couldn't stop talking about her. "My God, did you see how blue her eyes were? I've never seen such beautiful eyes. Like the sky on a perfect summer day."  
Sansa began to laugh, not believing these words were coming out of Bronn's mouth.  
That afternoon, they again climbed the stairs to the attic. They spent a couple of hours cleaning one of the old servant's rooms, preparing it for Sansa to sew in. Bronn helped her haul in the trunks full of fabric from the attic along with a large table, and she set about organizing the small room. She selected the fabrics she wanted for the dress she was to make for the Baelish's party and stashed the remainder of it in the next room.

She spent the rest of the week in the attic working on her dress. She had never made a dress from scratch before and was looking forward to the challenge. She figured if she ran into any trouble she could always take it to the dressmaker when they returned to town for Bronn's fitting.

The day before the trip to the tailor's Bronn asked Sansa, "Will we be running any other errands while in town?"

Guessing that he wanted to go to the mercantile to see Margaery, Sansa teased, "I'm not sure. Is there anything we need?"

"Well, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I thought maybe you might need some things for the dress you're making. Thread...or something." He kept his wolfish eyes all over the room, avoiding her gaze.

"Yes, I do need some things like thread and pins and some other items. I wonder where I could pick that up?" She teased. "Perhaps the dressmaker might sell me some."

"I think I saw those sorts of things at the mercantile. We could go there." He suggested.

Unable to suppress a smile she said, "You sound eager to go to the mercantile, Bronn. I wonder why?"

"I'm only trying to think of what we need, so we don't have to make more than one trip into town, las." He said unconvincingly.

"Why don't you invite her to the house for tea? That would be a lovely way for you to get to know her better."

"Who?" Bronn lied.

Sansa gave him a look, but gave into his game. "Miss Tyrell."

"Ah, yes, well if you think it's polite, I suppose we should invite her." Bronn straightened his jacket and left the room.

The next day, Bronn dressed with care before heading into town. Sansa actually needed quite a few things so, armed with a list, they set off in the cart. They first went to the tailor for Bronn's fitting. The suit was indeed going to look very smart. He was fidgety the entire time, causing the tailor to accidentally stick him with a pin more than once.

They walked into the mercantile, causing the bell to jingle over the door. Margaery walked up to the front counter and froze as she saw them enter. Her eyes locked with Bronn's and for a few moments they both seemed oblivious to anything around them. Sansa supressed her laugh and broke the silence.

"Good morning, Miss Tyrell. How are you?" Sansa asked with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Miss Stark. I'm well, and yourself?" she asked, looking at Sansa, but concentrating on Bronn.

"Oh, I'm well too. Thank you for asking. I'm making a dress and need to pick up afew things."  
"Do require any help?" she asked, taking a short glance at Bronn.

Approaching the counter, she said, looking at her list," There are quite a few things I need, so if you could help me that would be wonderful."

As Margaery guided Sansa about the store, helping her find and select things they began chatting. Sansa was telling her about how they had arrived just a few weeks before and had spent most of their time fixing and cleaning up the house and thus hadn't had a chance to meet very many people yet. Bronn was following at a discrete distance, unable to take his eyes off the lovely girl. Sansa leaned over to her and whispered, "My cousin is really quite taken with you. He wants to invite you to tea but is too nervous. He's afraid you may laugh at him."

"I think he's very handsome and I would most certainly not laugh at him. I would love a chance to get to know him better."

"Why don't you give him some encouragement? Go talk to him, I can find the rest of these items myself."

Margaery gave Sansa a smile, and walked over to Bronn. Emboldened by Sansa's words she said, "Have you worn your new hat yet, Mr. Reyne?"

"Not yet. I'm saving it for a dinner party we've been invited to."

"Who's hosting it?"

"The people on the farm next to ours. Baelish, I think is his name."

"My family has been invited to the dinner as well. I'll see you there." Margaery smiled.

"Aye." He smiled. Encouraged by her words and the way she was looking at him, Bronn finally asked, "Would you like to come out to our farm for tea on Saturday?"

"Yes, I would love to" She said softly

Sansa looked down the aisle and saw them smiling and talking. Things appear to be going well, she thought.

On Saturday, Margaery arrived for tea with her grandmother. Introductions were made and they enjoyed a very pleasant afternoon. Sansa was showing them around the ground floor of the house and was standing in the ballroom discussing how terrible the place had looked when they first arrived and the amount of work required to make it inhabitable. Bronn and Margaery were standing at the other end of the long room. Mrs. Tyrell said, "Margaery is really quite taken with your cousin. He seems like a fine young man."

"Yes, he is. You have nothing to worry about Mrs. Tyrell, he's every inch the gentleman."

The day came for them to go the dinner party at the Baelish's. They had received a formal invitation a couple of days after Agnes' visit including directions on where her brother's house was located.

Sansa helped Bronn straighten his jacket. The blue velvet suit with the braided trim looked wonderful on him. He fingered his tricorn, turning it over and over in his hands.

"You look very handsome, Bronn." Sansa said with a smile.

"And you look beautiful, las. I know a man who would agree." Sansa looked down, saddened by thoughts of Sandor. Bronn held out his arm for her, "Shall we go?"

Even though the cart did have a detachable cover it wasn't very warm and as they rode along. "Maybe we should look into acquiring a proper carriage. Although they're probably rather expensive," she sighed, pulling her shawl about her shoulders.

Sandor had been very generous with the money he had left Bronn, but he was sure it wasn't enough to buy a carriage. Maybe when Sandor returned he could ask him about one. "How long have we been here Sansa? Six weeks?"

She thought a moment and then said, "Yes, that's about right. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," he replied.

"Do you miss Liverpool?" she asked.

"No, actually I kind of miss being on the ship. They're probably getting close to England by now. Do you miss it, Liverpool I mean?"

"Yes, I miss Liverpool," she replied. "I miss my friends and the familiarity of it. My father passed away shortly before I left so I don't have any family, but I still miss him."

"I'm sorry, las, I didn't know."

"Thank you," she said. Brightening she continued, "Look at us getting all somber before a party. We should cheer up." Nudging him she said playfully, "Miss Tyrell is going to be there. She'll be all dressed up and I'll bet she'll be even prettier than before."

Bronn laughed and nodded. "I would imagine so."

They pulled up in front of the Baelish's house. A footman was there to take their cart. Bronn and Sansa stood for a moment in front of the mammoth house. "It's a mansion," Sansa murmured. "It's bigger than Joffrey's house."

"Joffrey?" Bronn asked.

It was the first time she had mentioned him since telling Sandor why she was on his ship.

"He was my fiancé in Liverpool. He was one of the reasons I left. I'll tell you all about it some day. Let's go inside."

They presented their invitation to the butler who led them to the ballroom, where the guests where mingling. Agnes spotted them immediately and approached them.

"I'm so happy you were able to come," she said gaily. "That is an exquisite gown, Miss Stark. And Mr. Reyne you look very handsome indeed."

"Thank you for the compliment and thank you again for your generous invitation. Your home is very impressive. I hope you'll have time to give me a tour later," Sansa said.

"Certainly, my dear. These parties sometimes go on for hours after dinner is over. You must come meet my brother, he's the real host this evening."

She led them to other end of the room to a small group of men chatting. She touched one of them on the sleeve and an attractive man, about forty years old turned to her. He was slightly taller than Sansa with dark hair that had bits of grey running through it. His eyes were dark green, and a pointed beard on the end of his chin. He had a slim build but his posture conveyed a quiet strength. Turning his gaze to Sansa he seemed momentarily transfixed, staring deeply into her big blue eyes.

"Petyr, I would like to introduce Miss Sansa Stark, and Mr. Bronn Reyne. They're cousins and just recently bought Otis Green's farm next door."

"Ah yes, our new neighbors," he said with a smile. His deep voice flowed smoothly with a hint of southern drawl. He shook Bronn's hand and raised Sansa's hands to his lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said in a low, intimate voice. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he placed a lingering kiss on her hand. A small shiver ran down her spine as she gazed into his cold eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.... Petyr Baelish is here. Dun dun DUNNNN!!!!!  
> talk to me on tumblr. :)  
> tumblr.com/celticwanderer


	14. Chapter 14

At that moment Agnes looked towards the entrance to the ball room and said, "Oh, the Tyrell's are here. Please excuse me."

Bronn started and slowly turned. He saw Margaery as Agnes greeted them. In her party dress with her hair pulled up she was even prettier than before.

Petyr, noticing Bronn's gaze, gave Sansa a quizzical look.

"Bronn is rather taken with Miss Tyrell. We've made numerous trips to the mercantile on fictitious errands just so that he can talk to her," Sansa said smiling fondly at him.

"She is even more lovely than before," he said not taking his eyes off the object of his affection. He slowly walked over to her. Halfway across the floor she noticed him too and they were both drawn to the other.

Sansa laughed lightly as they greeted each other. "Isn't it sweet?" she said to Petyr.

"She seems quite taken with him as well."

"Yes, I do believe she is," she agreed.

"Will there possibly be a wedding in the future?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," she said happily.

Turning to her, Petyr said, "And what of you, Miss Stark. Have any men in town attracted your attention?"

Blushing at the question, Sansa replied, "No, Mr. Baelish. I've been too busy readying the house for that sort of thing. You should be glad that Mr. Green didn't sell it to you. It's taken Bronn and I a full five weeks just to make it inhabitable."

"I take it Otis wasn't much of a housekeeper, then," he said with a smile.

Laughing, she said, "No, he most certainly was not. I'd like to know what he was doing in that house to cause such grime and filth," she said, her nose scrunching in distaste.

Agnes had told her brother about how lovely Sansa was and he was certainly agreeing with her. He had made sure that Agnes seated them together at dinner. "I believe that we are seated together at dinner tonight, Miss Stark," he said to her.

"Oh, are we? That will be nice," she replied.

"Yes, I think it most definitely will be very nice indeed, " he replied, his voice again dipping to an intimate level.

Sansa caught the flirtatious tone of his voice and turning her attention away from Bronn, she saw the interest in Petyr's eye. She blushed at the unexpected turn of events and shyly looked away.

She managed to later whisper a suggestion in Agnes' ear and noted that Bronn and Margaery were indeed seated together at dinner. And on her right was Petyr, who was most attentive.

He was fascinated by the crossing from England and Sansa had to make up a story about coming over on a modestly luxurious passenger ship. She most certainly was not going to tell anyone about stowing away aboard a ship and then having an affair with the Captain. She still wanted to marry someday and having that become common knowledge would certainly ruin her chances.

"How long have you been in Williamsburg?" he asked.

"Just six weeks," she replied.

"And you bought Mr. Green's farm. That was rather quick."

"We just happened to be in the court house as the notice was being put up," she explained.

"Ah yes, he did advertise it, didn't he?" His voice had taken on a hard edge and seeing the puzzled look on her face, he smiled and continued, saying, "I'd been trying to get him to sell me the farm for over a year, so I was a little distressed to discover that he hadn't contacted me when he decided to sell. I can tell you quite frankly that I didn't get along with Mr. Green very well, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised when he didn't tell me."

"Yes, well, he did seem to be a rather unusual man," she said, unsure of how to respond.

"Agnes said that you both seem like very nice people and I'm glad the place went to someone deserving. The soil is excellent and I had just been hoping to expand my operations a bit," he said casually.

"Yes, Bronn said that the soil was very good. I'm afraid I don't know much about farming, I'm going to be learning quite a bit over the next couple of years," she said with a laugh.

"Have you given the farm a name? It hasn't had one in recent memory and Mr. Green didn't bother."

"Yes, we decided on Aurora."

"Aurora? That's unusual. Where did you get that name from?"

"Aurora is the Goddess of the Dawn. She blew out the stars to begin the day, clearing the path for the Sun God, Apollo. Bronn used to be a sailor and that's the name of the ship he crewed on."

"Well, if you ever need any help you just let me know," Petyr said.

During dinner in the massive dining room, a small orchestra had been setting up in the ball room. Petyr announced that there was to be dancing after dinner.

To Sansa he said "I hope that you will save a dance for me."

"I would be delighted," she replied.

She glanced down the table at Bronn and Margaery. They seemed to be in a world of their own, oblivious to the other guests seated around them. They were speaking in hushed tones and alternating between gazing at each other and looking down at their plates, blushing. Sansa smiled, happy for the two of them.

As everyone rose from the table to adjourn to the ball room, Petyr extended his hand to Sansa, helping her up from the table. He did not release his hold of her hand though, and guided her into the next room. The orchestra started up and they began dancing. At first they were the only ones on the floor and she felt very self conscious, however, soon other couples joined and she was more at ease. She was now able to devote her attention to her dance partner.

"You dance very well," Petyr complimented her.

"Thank you," she replied. "You're also very good."

He was effortlessly gliding her about the dance floor, staring into her eyes. She returned his gaze, thinking that if she had been dancing with Sandor she would have been lost in an instant. The memory of the last dance she had shared with him came rushing back to her. How that night had ended so wonderfully, so magically, only to have the morning bring such cruelty. The remembrance was so vivid and so painful that she stumbled and stepped on Sandor's foot.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed.

"Quite all right. No damage done." He looked into her eyes and saw the pain in them. "What is the matter?" he inquired gently.

"Nothing, I'm all right," she said quickly, lowering her eyes.

"Please, you can tell me," he gently urged.

She hesitated before saying, quietly, "The last time I was at a ball, I danced with my father and he died just recently. The dancing brought back memories is all." It's not entirely untrue she rationalized to herself. The dance on the ship certainly wasn't a ball, and I didn't say the memories were of Father.

"Would you rather we stop?" he gently asked.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind. Just for a little while."

"I don't mind in the least." He walked her over to a chair, where she sat down.

"Would you care for a glass of punch, or perhaps a glass of wine?"

"Oh, just punch would be fine, thank you."

While Petyr was gone, Agnes appeared and sat next to her. "I think my brother is quite taken with you, Miss Stark," she said with a happy giggle.

"I'm sure he's just being an attentive host, seeing as how we're now neighbors," she replied modestly.

"No, I think it's more than that." She glanced at Sansa and asked "What do you think of him? He's rather handsome, don't you think?"

"He's very charming, and yes he is handsome," she agreed.

"Oh, he's coming back, I'll leave you two alone," she said rising from her seat as Petyr approached.

He handed her the glass of punch. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

"Yes, yes I am, thank you," she said, sipping the fruity pink liquid.

She vowed not to think about Sandor, Joffrey or her father for the rest of the evening, and also vowed that this would be a party that she would not have any bad memories of afterwards.

She managed for the most part to succeed and began to enjoy herself. After a particularly long time out on the dance floor, she sought out Agnes. "Miss Baelish, you promised to give me a tour of your lovely home. Would now be a good time?"

Agnes looked around and seeing that everyone was entertained and was enjoying themselves, she said, "Most certainly. I'll just let Petyr know where we've disappeared to."

She located her brother in the crowd and spoke with him briefly before rejoining her. "You may wish to bring your wrap, dear, the remainder of the house will be rather chilly as there are no fires lit."

The house was indeed large and soon Sansa was completely lost. They were making their way down a corridor when she asked, "Miss Baelish, how long did it take you to get used to this house? I must confess, I'm completely lost!"

"Oh, it did take quite some time, I must admit," she said laughing. "I used to wander about for hours trying to find my way!"

The corridor met with another at its end and she could hear the orchestra. Looking down to her right she could see the lights from the ballroom. "Goodness, we're almost back where we started!" she exclaimed.

Agnes laughed at her surprise and guiding her down the left arm of the corridor she said, "I'd like to show you the library. It's really quite extraordinary."

The library was indeed impressive. The room was very large and the shelves were full of leather bound books. The walls were papered in a dark wine color and the windows were covered with heavy, black, velvet draperies and several leather chairs and couches were scattered about in front of a mammoth fireplace. Despite the size of the room and the severity of the color scheme, she found it to be a cozy place. After all the dancing and walking through the large house, she suddenly felt in need of a rest. "Do you mind if we rest for just a bit?" she asked.

"No, not at all," Agnes replied sinking into one of the chairs.

Sansa sat on the couch. Leaning back she took in a deep breath. "I really must thank you again for inviting us tonight. I used to attend balls and parties quite regularly in Liverpool and I forgot how much I enjoy them," she said wistfully.

"Did you have someone to attend them with?" Agnes asked suggestively.

"Well, I attended them with my best friend and my father. But before I left I was engaged to a man who would join us," she said.

"You were engaged?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, I was," she said quietly, looking down at her hands. "He was from a very wealthy and powerful family, so naturally my father was overjoyed. However, at a party one night, I discovered that he was unfaithful. It was one of the reasons I left and came here."

"Oh you poor dear," Agnes said, joining Sansa on the couch. She put her arm about her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. "Perhaps you'll have better luck here," she said suggestively.

Knowing that she was referring to Petyr, Sansa was surprised to find herself blushing.

At that moment, he appeared in the doorway. "I thought I would find you in here," he said. "The Baker's are leaving and are looking for you. They would like to say goodbye."

"Oh, yes. We were just chatting away and I forgot all about my hostess duties," she said, all flustered. She rose quickly and Sansa joined her on her way out of the room. They were halfway down the corridor when she realized she had left her wrap in the library. Assuring Agnes that she could find her way back easily she went to retrieve it.

Petyr was still in the room when she walked in. "I left my wrap," she said by way of explanation. She quickly walked to the couch to pick it up, but it was no longer there. Puzzled she said, "I was sure I had left it in here."

She was looking about at the other chairs, when Petyr said, "I have it. I noticed that you had left it behind and I was going to return it to you." He held it out to her.

With a sigh of relief, she walked over to him and took it from his hand. "Thank you."

She turned to leave when he said, "Miss Stark, before you go."

Uneasy that she was away from the party with him with out a chaperone she turned to face him "Could we please talk on the way back to the ballroom?"

"This will only take a moment," he replied.

Nearing her he said quietly, "I was not expecting to be so enchanted this evening. My sister had mentioned that you were very beautiful but I thought she was exaggerating. Not only have I found that she was being truthful but I have also discovered that you are very charming as well. I should like to get to know you better. I know this is rather unconventional but since you don't have a guardian to ask, I must ask you. May I have the pleasure of calling upon you? Perhaps, later this week?"

Surprised yet pleased by his eloquent words, Sansa found herself saying, "Yes, Mr. Baelish. I would be very happy to have you call. I will contact you later this week with a date."

Smiling broadly, he sighed with relief. "Splendid," he said. "Shall we rejoin the party?"

They managed to slip back into the still-crowded room unnoticed. It would not do for her to have her reputation ruined before she even had time to establish a good one by having rumors circulate that she was in the library with the host unchaperoned.

She scanned the crowd for Bronn and saw him dancing with Margaery. They were laughing a great deal and it was quite clear that she was teaching him the steps. Sansa couldn't help but smile at them.

Eventually it came time for them to leave. Sansa was exhausted and since the Tyrell's had just left, Bronn was also ready to go home. They again thanked Agnes and Petyr for a lovely evening and left to wait for their cart.

As soon as they were outside, Bronn began talking about Maragery. "She taught me how to dance. Well, a little anyway. Could you teach me more?"

Sansa just smiled and let him ramble on. She was delighted by his romance. However, it made her realize how lonely she was. Without Jeyne, her father or even Shae she really had no one, other than Bronn, to talk to. What she really needed was a female friend. Someone like Jeyne, who she could trust with her innermost secrets. She could tell Jeyne all about what happened with Sandor on the ship and she would be delightfully shocked and would want all the details but she could be trusted to not tell anyone. As nice as Agnes was she didn't think she could trust her completely and Margaery seemed far toonaïve to understand the cause of her loneliness. She looked over at him. He knew, or at least she thought he did, about her affair with Sandor. If she ever appeared lonely or sad, he must be able to guess the reason. She shook her head, it would be thoroughly inappropriate to discuss such a thing with him.

Sansa and Petyr agreed on the following Wednesday for his visit and was delighted to find herself nervous and excited about it. She had everything ready to make tea for when he arrived and she walked through the sitting rooms and paced back and forth in the foyer waiting for his arrival. She caught Bronn watching her with an amused expression.

"What is so funny?" she asked him.

"You, las" he replied with a laugh. "You're so nervous. Come sit down before you wear a path in the floor."

Flopping into one of the chairs in the front sitting room she admitted that he was right. "I am nervous Bronn.. And a bit excited too. A little attention from an attractive man is just what I need."

"I'm not good enough?" He teased. "You think he's attractive?" he asked.

"Oh yes, he's very handsome, and very charming too. He seems like a very nice man."

"You don't think he's a bit old for you?"

"Well, yes, he is a bit older, but then that just means he's more refined, more sophisticated."

At that moment they heard a carriage arriving.

Bronn peered out the front window. "It appears your refined and sophisticated gentleman has arrived."

With Bronn acting as chaperone, they spent a very pleasant afternoon together. Sansa gave Petyr a tour of the main floor of the house. He asked to see the upstairs, but when she shyly mentioned that there were only bedrooms up there, he inquired further. "What about the dormer windows in the roof? Where do they look out from?"

"Oh, those are just old servant's quarters. And the attic is behind them, facing the back of the house," Sansa replied.

"Is there anything up there?" he asked.

"Oh yes, there's quite a lot. Furniture and a good many trunks and crates. We haven't had a chance to look at everything yet. Although I did find quite a few exquisite bolts of fabric. Bronn is going to make me a sewing room so that I can while away the dreary winter months making some gowns for myself."

"Ah yes," he said. "Well if you need any help organizing things just let me know. I would be glad to help."

Sansa looked at him with surprise. "You, rummaging around in a dusty old attic?"

"Yes, it appeals to my boyish side, I suppose. It would be almost like a treasure hunt. You never know what you'll find in some of these old attics." Lowering his voice to a theatrical whisper he said, "You know, there are rumors that your house used to belong to privateers who raided British and Spanish ships during the early part of the century. They completed quite a few of those raids before their own ship sank in a dramatic battle where the whole crew drowned at sea." Raising his eyes to the ceiling he continued, "Who knows what's up there?"

Staring up at the ceiling as well, Sansa said aloud with wonder "Privateers. My, my."

As he was leaving he again kissed Sansa's hand and told her how much he had enjoyed the visit.

Shyly, Sansa replied, "I quite enjoyed it too, Mr. Baelish."

"I should like to call on you again. Would that be alright?"

"Yes. I would like that very much."

"Splendid. How about Saturday? We could go into town. I understand one of the hotels offers a very nice lunch, and I'm certain Agnes would love to join us. How about we come by with the carriage at around 11:00?"

"That sounds lovely."

"I'll see you then," he said. Noting that Bronn had stepped into another room to give them a moment of privacy, he quickly placed a kiss on her cheek before tipping his hat and going down the front steps to his waiting carriage.

She was so surprised by his kiss, as chaste as it was, that all she could do was stand and stare at him. She slowly closed the door and leaned back against it. She suddenly remembered Sandor kissing her so unexpectedly in the doorway of her townhouse in Liverpool before tipping his hat and climbing into his carriage. The circumstances were similar but the kisses themselves couldn't have been more different. At the remembrance of Sandor's kiss a shiver ran down her spine. She closed her eyes and sighed.

 

She opened them and saw Bronn leaning against the doorframe of the sitting room's entrance. He had his arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face. "I leave you alone for one minute and look at the mischief you get into!"

"It was only a quick kiss on the cheek!" she protested.

"Aha! I knew it! I didn't actually see anything, and I tricked you into confessing!" he exclaimed. "You've become a fallen woman in a heartbeat!" he joked.

Sansa laughed along with him but thought he's right, I am a fallen woman. I fell for Sandor and it doesn't seem like any man can measure up to him. I also have to be careful and make sure that no one ever finds out about my indiscretion or I'll also be a ruined woman.  
That night as she lay in bed, the memory of Sandor's visit to her home in Liverpool kept interrupting her thoughts. She hadn't thought about that day for quite some time. Usually when she thought of him she remembered events that happened on the ship. She recalled what Jeyne had said to her after he had left that morning 'I don't think he's in your head Sansa. He's in your heart.' How right she had been. She hadn't even realized that she was already in love with him. That's why she hadn't told him that she was engaged that day they got stuck in his carriage during the storm. She had probably fallen in love with him the moment he grabbed her to prevent her from falling in the snow. The moment she had looked into his cool grey eyes for the first time.

Now Petyr, a very nice, attractive man, was showing an interest in her and all she could do was compare him to Sandor. Why couldn't she break free from his spell? Why did she still yearn for him? Maybe another man was what it would take. She tossed and turned agonizing over whether it was fair to begin a romance with a man while still in love with another. Another who may very well show up again in a few months. With that thought she finally drifted off to sleep only to awake once again, breathless, from dreams where all she could remember were his eyes. Eyes that were burning with passion and promise.

Sansa was intrigued by Petyr's remark about the house once being owned by privateers. That must be where all the fabrics, sugar, spices, rum and wine came from, she thought. And why the attic looked as though it had been ransacked. There was also the chance that something of real value could still be hidden in the attic. She suddenly recalled the comment that Otis made as he walked away with her ring, 'Only treasure I'll ever see.' He must have heard the rumors and had been looking for hidden treasure. It was obvious that he hadn't found it and that was why he had sold the farm.

After breakfast the next day they put on their cleaning clothes and went up to the attic. The sun was shining in through the windows so they didn't require any lanterns. They began by searching through all the trunks. They found household linens and old velvet drapes, smaller rugs and carpets. After awhile, Sansa removed the lid of a crate and gasped loudly.

"Bronn, come quickly!" she called out.

Seeing her shocked face as she stared into the open crate in front of her, he rushed over. As he neared her side he could see that it was divided into two parts. The larger side held about 40 muskets and the smaller side held musket shot.

He let out a whoop and picked up one of the muskets and tested its weight in his palm.

"Bronn, put it down," Sansa said sharply. "I don't want these in the house," she said firmly.

"Considering how it is just us in the house and you are sometimes alone, it might not be a bad idea to keep a few of these around and for you to learn how to shoot one."

"You must be joking!" she cried out in alarm. "I am not going to learn how to shoot a pistol! They're dangerous!"

"It's for your own protection. We can sell the rest," seeing her disapproving look he continued, "or turn them over to the sheriff in town. But we're going to keep a few along with the shot." He began looking around at the nearby crates. "I wonder if there's gunpowder in any of these."

"You can keep them and shoot them, if you like, but I want nothing to do with them," she said walking away from the crates. "I'm going to see what's over on the other side of the room."

After removing some items off the open top of another crate, she again gasped loudly. "I found more weapons," she called out to him, rolling her eyes.

He rushed over and saw that the crate was full of bayonets. "They must have been privateers," Bronn said as he picked one of them up. It flashed in the sunlight from the windows. He sliced it quickly through the air a few times before returning it to the crate. "I guess we should turn these over to the sheriff as well."

"Unless you can think of something to do with them..."

"All right, all right."

Sansa couldn't help but chuckle. "Do all boys want to be pirates?" she asked.

"We just want to pretend to be," he said. "I think the stories we hear sound very dramatic and romantic but I'm sure that in reality it's pretty awful. That was one of the reasons I became a sailor; adventure on the high seas." The last he said very dramatically. "Captain Clegane's ship is the only one I ever worked on. I liked it enough but after a few crossings I just wanted solid ground under my feet for awhile."

"For awhile?" she asked.

"Well, at first I thought just awhile, mostly because I didn't really know what was waiting for me here. Whether I would like it or not. But I like sharing the house with you and now that I've met Margaery..." he trailed off smiling and sighed heavily. "I think I'll be staying," he said still smiling.

Sansa nudged him good naturedly and they continued searching for lost treasure in their own attic. They didn't find anything else of great interest and by noon were once again reminded of the time by their growling stomachs. After a quick lunch they returned to the attic to resume their search.

Sansa was delighted to discover a complete and very large set of fine china and silver ware. The silver was in dire need of polishing and she hoped that none of the pieces were ruined. "We'll have to get some silver polish, Bronn," she said to him. "A good reason to visit the mercantile tomorrow, I think," she teased.

He smiled happily and hefted open the lid of yet another trunk of linens.

At the end of the day, after they had changed into clean clothes and eaten dinner, they sat in the library talking about what they had found that day.

"Too bad we didn't find any gold or jewels, or bags of pearls and ivory" Bronn said wistfully.

"I think we've done quite well for ourselves. We got all this for one diamond," Sansa replied sweeping her arms about. "This house with all its contents, the barn, the stables, the farming equipment, and 150 acres. Not a bad bargain, I think."

"You're right, just a man's imagination running wild again," he said with a laugh.

"I think Mr. Green had heard the hidden treasure rumors as well," she said. "I'm guessing that's why the attic appeared to have been ransacked."

"Well, perhaps, Mr. Green wasn't quite as strange as we thought," he commented.

That evening, Sansa sat down and wrote to Jeyne. She had so much to tell her. The house and farm, Bronn and Margaery, and all about her budding romance with Petyr Baelish. She made it sound a bit more exciting than it really was, if only to help herself believe it as well. She also told her the stories of privateers once owning the house. She wrote of what they had found in the attic and cellar and that Bronn wanted to teach her how to shoot a pistol. The letter was quite long and it was rather late by the time she was finished. She addressed and sealed the envelope and placed it on her desk before she went to bed. She would find a ship delivering mail to England during her trip to town to have lunch with Petyr and Agnes.


	15. Chapter 15

A few days later Sansa suggested to Bronn that they bring some of the items down from the attic. "I'd like to get those muskets and bayonets out of the house. I'd also like to go over the china and silverware and see just what we have," she said.

"All right. Those crates might be heavy though. Do you think maybe we could ask Mr. Baelish to help us bring them down?" he asked.

She recalled the way he had seemed so eager to know about what was in the attic and for some reason she had reservations about letting him up there and about knowing where the doorway was.

"I think we can manage on our own without bothering Mr. Baelish. If need be we can just bring things down in smaller batches. I'm going to change my dress and then we'll get started?" She began to go upstairs when she turned and said, "And by the way, I've been thinking about those muskets and you're right. We should keep a few of them and you can teach me how to shoot one. I'm actually getting rather excited about it," she announced with a smile.

It took most of the day but by the end of it, they had the crates of muskets, bayonets, china and silverware downstairs. Sansa laid out the silverware and began checking for any damage that the tarnishing may have done. Bronn looked over the muskets checking for any damage and selecting a few to keep. He was nearing the bottom of the crate when he noticed several small pouches hidden among the guns. He scooped them up and noticed that it felt like they held small stones. They're too big to be shot pellets he thought as he walked over to the billiards table. He put the covers over the holes and undid the drawstring, spilling the contents onto the green felt. Pale shiny orbs rolled over the table top. He slowly picked one up and rolled it between his fingers. It was a pearl!

He scooped up a small handful and ran to the kitchen. He burst through the door as Sansa was holding up a large serving spoon checking for damage.

"Look, las!" he said holding out his hand.

She walked over to him and stared into his outstretched palm. She picked up one of the pearls and rolled it between her fingers. "It's a pearl!" she exclaimed. "Where did you find these?" she asked staring at the shimmery ball.

"In a pouch hidden amongst the muskets. There's lots more, I spilled them out on the billiards table. Come look. There's more pouches too, but I haven't opened them yet." He turned and ran back to the library.

When Sansa walked in the door Bronn was leaning over the table gathering up and counting the pearls. "There are fifty here," he announced. He funneled them back into the pouch before picking up one of the others. "Do you want to open this one?" he asked holding the bag out to Sansa.

"Isn't it more of the same?" she asked. "You can open it."

He undid the drawstring and tipped the bag over the table. Pearls spilled out again, bigger ones this time. Sansa gasped as they rolled about the table top. "They must have been pirates," she whispered. She picked one up and inspected it in the candlelight. "They're exquisite," she murmured. "Open the other bags."

There were three other pouches and pearls spilled out of all of them. There were over three hundred pearls rolling about on the table.

Suddenly remembering that the house and its contents were Sansa's and her's alone, Bronn asked "What are you going to do with them?"

"I'm not sure, what do you think we should do?" she said gathering them together.

"It's your decision. They're yours, not mine."

Looking over at him, standing by the window with his hands jammed into his pockets, she was reminded that even though she considered everything to be theirs, it was indeed hers. "How about this, I'd like to have a necklace made of these and you can have whatever is left over to do with as you like. I'll need about two hundred, so there will be around a hundred left." Smiling she said, "Enough for a single strand necklace. Perhaps Margaery might like to have some pearls."

"Oh, I don't think she would accept such an extravagant gift," he said.

"Well, you could save them until such a time comes that she would accept them."

Bronn just smiled and stared down at his feet, knowing that the only way she would ever accept such a gift would be if they were married.

"Why don't we go into town tomorrow with these and take them to the goldsmith and see if we have enough for two necklaces? I'm quite sure we do," she said, scooping them up and spilling them back into the pouches.

Watching her, he said "I wonder if there are more bags of jewels hidden up there? Just tucked away in trunks and crates?"

"Well I didn't find any in with the china and silverware. If you go searching through that crate of bayonets though, be careful. They're probably still very sharp," she warned, tying the pouch closed.

"I'll go out to the barn and get some heavy work gloves," he said.

He laid the last of the bayonets on the floor and looked into the empty crate. He hadn't come across any pouches of jewels. He sighed and began placing the bayonets back into the crate. When he had finished he joined Sansa in the kitchen. He was pulling off his gloves as he walked in the door.

She looked up at him. "Any luck treasure hunting among the bayonets?" she asked.

"No, that's all that was in that crate," he replied. "How did you do? Anything broken or ruined?"

Smiling she said, "No, everything is fine. The silverware does need a good polishing though. That will keep me busy for a couple of days. We can stop at the mercantile tomorrow for some polish."

It was several days later and Agnes was paying Sansa a visit. As Agnes loved to know everyone else's business, the conversation turned to Bronn and Margaery's romance.

"They make such a cute couple. Is Bronn officially courting her?" she asked.

"I believe so. He's quite smitten and I believe she is too. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a wedding sometime in the new year," Sansa said happily.

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if there's more than one," Agnes said suggestively.

"What do you mean?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Petyr is also quite smitten with you," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

Sansa blushed and looked away. "I didn't realized he felt that way," she said demurely.

"Oh my, yes. He talks about you constantly. Quite frankly, my dear, if I hear your praises sung one more time I'm just going to scream!" she said laughing.

"I had no idea. I felt quite sure that he was beginning to grow fond of me, but not to such a degree!" she said obviously surprised by Agnes' comment.

"So, how do you feel about him?" she asked bluntly.

"Well, I think he's a fine man, and I do like him and would like to continue seeing him. I still don't know him very well, though," she admitted.

"Yes, Petyr can be a hard man to get to know," Agnes stated a bit dramatically. "But you must give him a chance. Like you he hasn't been very lucky where love is concerned."

"Has he even been serious about anyone?" she asked, intrigued.

"Yes, there was a woman quite a few years ago, but she died in a tragic house fire. And then there was another one, she seemed such a lovely girl, but she ran off up north with a fur trapper of all things. Petyr was crushed. I think he really loved that girl. After that he seemed to give up on love, until you came along. I think he now may be willing to give Cupid another chance," she said brightening.

I wonder if I should give Cupid another chance myself, she thought. Both Joffrey and Sandor had broken her heart. Petyr and myself have each had our hearts broken twice. Perhaps third times the charm for us both. "Well, I hope I don't disappoint him," she said nervously, pushing the thoughts of Sandor away.

They continued chatting happily about Sansa's plans for the house and the upcoming Christmas season for the remainder of the afternoon until it was time for Agnes to go.

At the door Agnes turned and said, "Why don't you come by for tea tomorrow? Petyr asked me to invite you and, silly me, I almost forgot!" she laughed. "Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, I think so," she replied.

"Splendid, I'll send the carriage for you at around three?"

"Yes, three will be fine."

"Three it is then," she called out as she descended the steps.

Later that afternoon Bronn returned home after spending the day with Margaery. He couldn't keep the smile from his face but every time he looked at Sansa he got a guilty look on his face and a blush crept into his cheeks.

"Bronn, what is going on?" she finally asked him. "What happened today?"

He failed to supress his smile and said, "I kissed her."

"You kissed her? And she didn't slap you?" she asked, laughing. "I think it's wonderful that you two are getting along so well. A few stolen kisses are fine. To tell you the truth, my ex-fiancé, Joffrey, kissed me a few times as well."

"What about Captain Clegane? I know something happened between the two of you."

Quietly she said, "Yes, Bronn, he kissed me too."

Sensing that he had touched upon a painful subject he didn't pursue it. He tried to lighten the mood by talking about Margaery. "I wasn't sure if she liked me, but I sure know now," he said. "I know you kept telling me how taken she is with me, but I just couldn't believe it that someone as special and as beautiful as she is could be interested in a regular old sailor like me."

"Don't sell yourself short, you're very special as well. I don't think I'd still be here if it wasn't for you. I probably would have gone back to Liverpool by now, but instead I've stayed and I'm glad that I have. I have you to thank for that," she said gratefully.

"Really?" he asked, genuinely touched.

"Yes, really. Margaery is a wonderful girl and you deserve someone like her. You're both very lucky to have found one another."

He didn't know what to say, so trying to change the subject, asked, "How did your visit with Miss Baelish go?"

"It was very pleasant and I've been thinking, ever since Agnes mentioned the upcoming Christmas season and the social events that will be happening, what do you think about having a Christmas ball here? I think we can finally pull those bags off the chandeliers and we could really make the house look beautiful. Agnes could help with the guest list and we could meet some of the other people in Williamsburg."

"I think it's a grand idea!" he said. Frowning, he continued, "I've never hosted a ball before. I wouldn't know what to do."

"You could play the piano to entertain guests and otherwise just mingle and chat with people. I could take care of the official hostess duties. What do you say?"

"Alright, let's do it! We'll have a party!"

They spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening talking about the party and making plans.

"Do you think you could teach me how to dance properly? I'd like to surprise Margaery at the ball." He asked awkwardly.

"Yes, I could teach you, but maybe you'd prefer to have Margaery teach you. What better way to spend hours with her in your arms?" she suggested with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

His wolfish were consumed with thought. "I like the way you think, las."

Sansa smiled. "We can invite her and her mother over and maybe Agnes as well and we can plan the ball while the two of you dance around the ball room."

"But what about music? Don't we need music to dance to?"

"We'll see if Mrs. Tyrell or perhaps Agnes knows how to play. We'll work something out."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence but she noticed that Bronn appeared to be deep in thought about something. "A penny for your thoughts.""

"Hm? Oh, I was just wondering about something," he said with a small smile.

"Wondering about what?" she asked.

"Well, you remember that little house out in the fields?" Shortly after moving in, they had gone for a tour of the grounds, and had come across a cabin, suitable for an overseer or as a place to rest and eat during a long day in the fields.

"Yes. We really should get out there and tidy it up."

"Do you think it's big enough for two people?" he asked.

"Two people? Well, I guess so, it would be a bit crowded..." she noticed that he was avoiding her gaze. "Why do you ask?" she inquired.

"Well...I really like Margaery quite a lot...and I was thinking that maybe if she and I...well...if we ever..." he stammered.

"If you got married, you'd like to live there?" she suggested.

"Aye."

"Are you thinking of asking her?" she said with surprise.

"Well, not right away. But maybe sometime in the future."

"I think that would be wonderful. We could always build onto it, make it bigger. Although we wouldn't be able to do that until spring and it would take awhile. Do you want to wait a year until you ask her?"

"No, not really. But what am I thinking? I'm in no position to marry anyone. I have no money, no real station in life yet," he said dejectedly.

"If you make your feelings and your intentions known, she'll probably wait for you. There's no need to rush into it," she said. "Why don't you continue seeing her and getting to know her before you decide?"

"All right. Anyway, I was just wondering."

The next day, promptly at three o'clock the Baelish's carriage arrived to pick her up. After arriving at the mansion, a butler showed her into a large sitting room where Petyr was waiting for her.

"Miss Stark. I'm so glad you were able to come. It's lovely to see you again," he said kissing her hand.

"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Baelish," she replied.

"Won't you please sit down? Agnes will be joining us shortly. She's just seeing to the tea."

She sat down on the couch and Petyr sat next to her. "Have you begun your pistol shooting lessons yet?" he asked with a smile.

"No, not yet. I can't even bring myself to touch one, let alone learn how to shoot it," she said.

"You really should learn, you know. Life here in Williamsburg is much less civilized than it is in Liverpool and it can be dangerous at times."

"Yes, I know. I will endeavor to get over my fears of the gun," she promised, as Agnes entered the room followed by a maid pushing a tea cart.

"I'm so sorry for being late, my dear," she apologized. "Sometimes something as simple as preparing tea can be so trying."

"Yes, I'm sure it can be," she sympathized, even though she was sure that Agnes had no idea herself how to prepare tea for three people. She did know how to serve it though and began to pour.

They spent a very pleasant afternoon together, but after a couple of hours, Sansa announced that she should be getting back home.

At that moment a maid appeared at the door. "Miss Baelish, ma'am? Sorry to interrupt but there's a...situation...in the kitchen. We need your assistance immediately."

"Oh my. Oh my," Agnes said, suddenly flustered. To Sansa she said, "I'm so sorry dear, but as you see, I must go. Petyr will see you out." She hurried out after the maid.

Watching her go, Sansa said, "I do hope everything is alright."

Petyr turned her by the shoulder and said, "Everything is fine. I asked the maid to call Agnes away so that I could have a few moments alone with you."

She looked up at him with surprise. "You did?"

"Yes," he said staring tenderly into her eyes. "I'm not sure if you know this or not Sansa...may I call you Sansa?" he asked.

Blushing, she said, "Yes, you may."

"Then you must call me Petyr."

"Alright...Petyr," she said with a shy smile.

"As I was saying, my feelings for you have grown and I'm becoming quite fond of you. I was wondering if you felt the same way," he looked at her hopefully.

"Yes, Petyr, I am growing fond of you. I'm very happy that you've continued to call upon me and invite me to your home," she said.

Smiling he said "I'm happy to hear it. I'm sure my sister has told you that I haven't been very lucky as far as love is concerned so I just wanted to make sure. I'm very protective of my heart." He paused a moment before continuing, "Agnes tells me that you're in a similar situation. That you left a fiancé behind in England?"

"Yes, I discovered him in a compromising...embrace...with another woman at a party," she said looking away, unable to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said tenderly.

"Thank you," she replied quietly.

"I think the carriage is ready," he said. "I'll show you out."

She followed him to the front door and was about to thank him again for inviting her when he placed a finger under her chin and tipped her head slightly so that she was looking up at him. He looked into her eyes and then pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back with a tentative smile but she was so surprised she could only stare at him.

"I'm sorry, was that thoroughly inappropriate?" he asked, worried that he had gone too far.

Shaking her head, she stammered, "No, no, that wasn't inappropriate. It was, um, it was...very nice."

He opened the door for her and watched as she descended the steps and climbed into the carriage. He smiled to himself as he closed the door.

Sansa sat in the carriage and touched her finger to her lips. His kiss had elicited no reaction from her other than surprise. No butterflies and certainly no parting heavens. Even when Sandor's kisses had been quick and unexpected they had stirred a whirlwind of emotions and sent shivers up and down her spine. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushioned head rest. Was she ever going to get over him? Was any other man ever going to measure up?

A few days later, Sansa was up in the old servant's room that she was using to store the fabrics she had found in the attic. She was deciding which fabrics to use for the gown she would make for the ball. She realized that if there were going to be a number of social events then she would need several gowns. She was thinking that she may need to take the fabrics to the dressmaker and have some gowns made, as she would just not have time on her own, when she heard Bronn running up the stairs, calling her name.

"I'm in here Bronn. What is it?" she asked with alarm.

He burst into the room holding a large roll of paper. He unrolled it across her large sewing table. "I was looking at the house plans that we found," he said excitedly. He pointed to a spot on the drawing. "Look at this."

She couldn't tell what he was pointing at. With all the lines and symbols she could barely tell that it was her house. "What is it?"

"Look, here's the outline of the house, see? Here are the old servant's rooms and here's the attic," he explained. "Do you see it?"

"Yes, yes I do. But what is this over here? It looks like another room off the attic," she asked, finally making sense of the drawing.

Looking up at her he cried, "It is. It's another room. A hidden room!" With a whoop he exclaimed, "It could be the pirate's treasure!"  
They walked into the attic and looked down to the end where, according to the plans, the room would be.

"But where is the doorway? It's just a blank wall over there. I can't see how a door could even be hidden."

"Let's go look," he said, and began making his way through the scattered trunks and crates.

They spent the next hour scanning the wall, looking for the edges of the hidden door, pressing every part of the wall trying to find the catch that would open it. Frustrated, Sansa said, "Does it not show where the door is on the plans?"

"No, it just shows the room," he replied.

"Maybe there is no entrance. Perhaps it's just an empty space," she said sitting down on one of the trunks.

Stepping back from the wall, Bronn reluctantly said, "I'm not sure. I can't see anything that could be a door, but why would there be just an empty space?" he wondered aloud.

"Are you going to keep looking?" she asked.

"Yes, for a little while," he said, stepping back up to the wall.

"I'm going back to my sewing room. Call me if you find anything," she said turning away.

Several hours later she had chosen the fabrics for her gown and had begun cutting them out when Bronn walked in. He flopped into a chair in the corner and announced, "I give up. I can't find an entrance. I'm sure there is one, but beats me where it is," he said dejectedly.

A few days later, she invited Agnes for tea and brought up her idea of hosting a Christmas ball.

"Why that would be wonderful!" Agnes exclaimed.

"I'm so glad you think so. Do you think you would be able to help me? What I really could use your assistance with would be the guest list. I simply don't know enough people yet," she said.

"Oh, of course my dear. My, this is going to be such fun." Looking about she said, "It will look simply stunning once decorated. You've done wonders with it already, mind you, but for Christmas we must do something really special. And don't worry about whether people will come or not. Believe it or not, but you are quite the buzz about town," she said happily.

"Me? Whatever for?" Sansa asked with alarm.

"Everyone is simply dying of curiosity about you and about what you've done with this house. They all want to meet you and see the incredible transformation you've performed here. Oh yes, the party will be great success," Agnes assured her, vigorously nodding her head.

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she had thought the worse and that news of her relationship with Sandor had somehow leaked out and she was now the subject of scandalous rumors. But how would that be possible, she thought? Bronn is the only one who knows and he certainly would never tell anyone. She shook her head at her foolishness and began discussing plans for the ball.

Liverpool

Sandor stepped off his ship and looked about the busy harbor. He was back in Liverpool and all he could think about was leaving again. Normally he liked to wait at least three months, sometimes as many as six before sailing out again but this time he was eager to get back to Williamsburg. He just hoped they would still be there. He was fairly certain that Bronn would leave word as to where they were if they did leave, but you never know. The first thing he had to do was go home and get settled and then he would find Jeyne and deliver Sansa's letter.

His crew streamed off the ship glad to be home. He had given them their pay and those that had families had gone home to them. As for the others, they headed to the nearest tavern.

Sandor hired a carriage and had himself and his things brought home. His housekeeper smiled as he entered the house. "Why Mr. Clegane, welcome back," she said merrily. "How was the crossing?" she asked helping him with his coat.

"Going was wonderful, Mrs. O'Connell, coming back was not so pleasant," he admitted.

"Was the weather bad on the return trip?" she asked with concern.

"No, it was calm sailing all the way," he said. "I just wish I could have stayed in Williamsburg for awhile." In response to her confused expression he said, "It's turning into quite a big town."

"Yes sir," she said still not quite understanding.

"Could you please arrange a bath for me? I would like to get cleaned up. And could you send a footman over to this address indicating that I would like to pay a visit as soon as possible to Miss Poole," he said, showing her the envelope addressed to Jeyne.

"Certainly sir, right away. I'll arrange to have your things put away," she said, turning to leave.

"Have these things sent to the laundry and then pack a new trunk for me please. I'll be leaving again almost immediately."

"Immediately?" she asked with surprise.

"Yes, immediately." He rasped.

When he offered no explanation she replied, "Yes sir," before bustling off.

An hour later he was in his carriage on his way to see Jeyne. The footman had returned saying that Miss Poole would receive him as soon as he arrived. He chuckled to himself. From what he knew of her he wasn't at all surprised. She was most likely bursting with curiosity as to the purpose of his visit.

He was shown into a sitting room, where Jeyne was waiting for him. After kissing her hand and exchanging greetings, she said, "What brings you here Mr. Clegane? I haven't seen you anywhere about town for months." She was doing her best to be civil but she was dying to know why he was visiting her. She suspected it had something to do with Sansa but surely if he was looking for her he would have come by before now.

"I've been away on business," he said. He pulled the letter out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. "I have something for you. I would like to stay while you read it and then discuss it with you afterwards. That is, if you still wish for me to stay."

Perplexed by his statement she took the letter from him. She recognized Sansa's handwriting. Why did he have a letter for her from Sansa? She tore open the letter and began to read. He nervously watched her as she went through the pages. He saw her eyes widen and saw her gasp and assumed that Sansa had told her about the crossing. She looked from the page and stared at Sandor for a moment and then continued to read, her eyes still wide. She even giggled at one point. She then began to frown and her brow furrowed. She quickly glanced at him with angry eyes, but continued on with the letter.

At long last she finished and handed it to him to read. He quickly scanned the pages and saw that Sansa had indeed told her friend everything. When he returned the letter to her she folded it and returned it to its envelope. She then turned to him and said in a slow measured voice, "As much as I would like to throw you out of my house, you said you wished to discuss things."

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"Fine. What do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded.

"First of all, I would like to say that all the events she told of in the letter did happen, but she interpreted them wrong. I had no intention of hurting her and I most certainly was not using her," Seeing from Jeyne's expression that she didn't believe him, he said desperately, "I love her Miss Poole. I swear with all my heart I do. I need your help in convincing her of that. How can I do that?"

She wasn't sure if she should believe him or not. She was torn between the pain that Sansa had expressed in her letter and with what Sandor was saying to her now. She looked into his eyes and decided to believe him. She would help him, if she could. Her stern expression thawed and she began to smile and then to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked.

"You're the captain of the Aurora!" she gasped, still laughing. "You were one of the things she was trying to get away from. She knew she couldn't trust herself when you were around and she was sure that she was going to end up disgracing herself if she stayed near you and look what happened!" Wiping her eyes and attempting to compose herself, she said, "Mr. Clegane, the only reason I'm going to help you is because not only do I believe you when you say that you're in love with her, but because she's also in love with you. She has been all along. I think she finally realized it the day you showed up at her house to return her cloak."

He stared at her in surprise. "She loves me?" he asked incredulously.

"As much as she hated to admit it, it was undeniable," she replied with a smile.

Joffrey was in his stables, saddling a horse when he heard two maids outside talking. They were relaxing in the sun behind the small outbuilding and he moved closer to the window so that he could hear them. "...a beautiful red head is what I heard. She was a stow away on the ship called Aurora."

"Who told you that?" the other one asked.

"I ran into Suzy at the market. She's friendly with one of the crew and he told her all about it. Quite scandalous really. The girl ended up having a brazen affair with the captain!"

"Oh, that's nonsense. Why would a young woman stow away aboard a ship? If she wanted to leave she would have booked a passage properly."

"No, this one was running away. Things weren't going well for her here and she was desperate to leave is what Suzy says."

"Bah, I don't believe a word of it. Come on, we better get back to work, Mr. Baratheon will have our hide if he catches us out here."

Joffrey sank against the wall as the two women went back to the house. Sansa's note had said she was going to France. Of course, if she wanted to be rid of him, why would she tell him where she really was? No wonder the men he had sent to look for her couldn't find anything. And what of this rumor about the stow away having an affair with the captain? Joffrey felt a jealous rage building in him. He forced himself to calm down and think this through properly. One of the crew, the maid had said. Well, he thought, I'm just going to have to get this story first hand myself, he thought. He flung the saddle onto the horse and strapped it on quickly.

Half an hour later he was down by the harbor looking for a tavern. He spied one and walked in. He sat down at the bar and said to the bartender. "Excuse me, I'm looking for anyone who was a sailor on the Aurora."

The bartender stared at him for a moment. He took in his fine clothes and cultured accent. He then jerked his head towards a group of men sitting at a table. "That lot came across on the last sailing."

"Thank you." Joffrey walked over to the group. "Excuse me, gentleman. I understand you're part of the crew of the Aurora."

The men looked at Joffrey in the same way as the bartender had. He was thinking perhaps he should have dressed differently, when one of the men said, "Yeah, what's it to yer?"

"Well, I've been hearing some stories about a stow away you had and I was wondering if you could tell me more about it." He motioned to the bartender for another round of drinks.

When the drinks were placed in front of the men, they invited him to join them. "There was a stow away, that's fer sure. A might pretty lass she was, once she got cleaned up. She was caught stealin' food from the kitchen one night an' she plumb fainted away when the Cap'in saw 'er. He took 'er back to 'is cabin and a few days later she comes back up on deck pretty as can be." The man stopped to take a long drink of his ale.

"What did she look like?" Joffrey asked.

One of the others piped up. "Oh, she was a comely lass, she was. Long fiery red hair and big blue eyes, she had. Yep, she was mighty pretty. But she was wit' the Cap'in, no one was to touch 'er."

"What do you mean, with the Captain?"

"Well, a romance comes up between 'em. Wit' 'er stayin' in 'is cabin, it was bound to 'appen."

"She stayed with him in his cabin?" Joffrey asked incredulously.

"Yessir, she did," the man said.

"Do you know her name?" he asked.

"'er name...what was 'er name?" the men wondered staring into their empty glasses.

He signaled for another round and once they were placed in front of them, their memories improved. "Miss Stark was 'er name," one of the men said wiping his mouth after a long drink.

"And what is your captain's name?"

"Sandor Clegane, sir."

"And you're sure they had a romance?"

"Oh yeah, they 'ad a romance, all right," they confirmed before breaking into gales of laughter.

"An' they sure fought like a couple, they did!" one of them said, and they again roared with laughter.

"Thank you gentleman, you've been very helpful," he said as he rose to leave. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone that I was asking these questions."

One of the sailors looked up at him and said "Well sir, if we get drunk 'nuff, we won't 'member ye. If ye get my meanin'"

"Yes, of course," he said dryly. "I understand." He went over to the bartender and gave him enough money to keep the men in ale well into the night.

He made his way back to his horse and fumed the whole way back to the house. He could hardly believe it! Sansa not only disgraced him by running away but to then have a flagrant affair with the ship's captain! Of course he knew who Sandor Clegane was. He was a wealthy man who chose not to involve himself with Liverpool society when he would have been more than welcome, even with his ugly scars. If he ever did appear at a party or ball, as he had at the Summer Ball, he had noticed how women reacted to him. They found him irresistible. Could Sansa have been caught in his spell? Alone and most likely frightened on his ship, she would have been easy prey for a man like him. Well, it didn't matter, he was going to get her and bring her back. Meredith had put their affair on hold until he found another fiancée but for some reason he was determined to get Sansa back. He would not tolerate being made a fool of. He would book passage as soon as possible. But first he had to get in touch with that ridiculous friend of hers to find out just where she was.

Sandor made arrangements with the exporter for another shipment immediately. The man at the shipping office had found his adamant request that the destination be Williamsburg strange, but he had accommodated him. His crew wasn't very happy with the unusually short leave time, but they all came back. He was an unusually good and fair captain and none of them wanted to lose their positions with him. Three weeks after it arrived, the Aurora set sail back to America. Sandor had a letter from Jeyne in his pocket urging Sansa to give him another chance.

The day after Sandor sailed, Joffrey arrived at Jeyne's home unannounced. He had been there several times before, but she had always refused to see him. She knew the purpose of his visit and was trying her best to give Sandor a head start on him. Yesterday, one of the errand boys of the house had informed that the Aurora had set sail, so she decided to finally receive Joffrey. When the butler informed her that a Mr. Baratheon was there to see her, she said she would meet him in the sitting room; the same sitting room where she had received Sandor.

Joffrey rose as she entered the room. "Why Mr. Baratheon, what a pleasant..."

"Where is she?" he spat without letting her finish her greeting.

Frowning at his rudeness, she asked "She? Who are you referring to?"

"You know damn well who!"

Surprised by his language, Jeyne paused as she sat on the sofa. "Are you referring to Sansa?" she asked innocently.

Exasperated he almost shouted at her, "Yes! Sansa, where is she?"

Smiling sweetly at him she said, "Please, Mr. Baratheon won't you sit down?"

Gritting his teeth he continued to stand and said slowly, "Just tell me where she is."

Still smiling, she said, "Oh I'm sorry, I can't do that. Would you care for some tea?"

"What? Why not? And don't tell me you don't know!"

"Why of course I know. I just don't want you to know," she said sweetly.

Walking towards her, he said menacingly, "Listen you little trollop, you tell me where she is or so help me..."

He was interrupted by a quiet cough from behind him. He turned and saw the butler standing in the doorway glaring at him. Stepping back from her he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He decided to try another tack. "Please, Miss Poole. Tell me where she is."

"Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"So I can go get her and bring her back. So that we can be married."

"But she doesn't want to marry you," she said as if speaking to a child. "She doesn't love you."

"What difference does that make?" he asked get truly frustrated with her. "She made me a promise, she accepted my proposal, she accepted the ring, she must go through with it!"

"Well, as we both know, Mr. Baratheon, Sansa doesn't do anything that she doesn't want to do and if that means not marrying you, well then, I'm afraid there's not much you can do about it."

"Why don't you let that decision be made between her and I. Tell me where she is."

Turning to her butler, she said, "Stuart, could you please show Mr. Baratheon out, his visit is over." With that she rose and left the room.

Joffrey was furious as he drove away in his carriage. How dare that little piece of baggage treat him like that. Well, there was more than one way to find out where she was. He would find out where the Aurora had just come from. He directed his driver down to the waterfront.

He stood in the tavern and listened as the bartender told him that the Aurora had already set sail back to America. "Already?" Joffrey asked. "Isn't that unusual, to leave so quickly after arriving?"

"Yes, it is," the man replied wiping the counter.

"Do you know where I can find out where it had just come from?"

"The import/export office should know."

"Thank you." He left some coins on the counter to thank the man for the information and left the tavern.

After quite a few more coins changed hands he found out from the clerk at the importers that the Aurora had just come back from Virginia. Joffrey immediately made his way to book passage on the first ship heading there.

Jeyne snuck into the library and with shaking hands poured herself a small brandy. She hadn't let it show but Joffrey's visit had terrified her. Especially when he had threatened her. Thank goodness Stuart was there. She swallowed the warm amber liquid and sat down on the couch as it burned down her throat. She knew that he would be able to somehow find out that she was in Virginia, she only hoped that Sandor would get there first.

Sandor stood at the helm of his ship leaving the English shore line far behind. He felt his spirits rise as it disappeared below the horizon. He was returning to America and he was going to win her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!!!! Sandor's back! Hopefully he'll be able to win Sansa's heart back, before Joffrey does...  
> Talk to me on tumblr   
> tumblr.com/celticwanderer


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading and loving this story so far. Keep commenting, it makes my day :) and talk to me on tumblr. tumblr.com/celticwanderer  
> I hope everyone is having a splendid day.

Sansa sank down into the warm, soapy, perfumed water. She closed her eyes and sighed. The extra large tub she had purchased for herself was definitely worth the additional cost. She recalled the small tub she had bathed in while on the Aurora. She had thought that a man as tall as Sandor would require a bigger tub, but being on the ship she supposed space and the amount of water a large tub would require were both considerations.

She tipped her head against the rim and let her mind wander back to the time on the ship. The times she had spent with him. A smile crept across her face, thinking how even after so short a while, the bad memories were fading and she more and more thought only of the good times. The times she spent in his arms, her fingers sliding through his thick hair, stroking his hard, muscled body, feeling the tingling tremors flying through her veins under his hands, the way a man as strong as he flinched as she touched his burns. His flaws made him all the more irresistable.

Her own hands slid along the insides of her thighs recalling those nights on the ship and the magical way he had made her feel. A soft gasp slipped through her lips as her fingers dipped into the nest of curls between her thighs. Stroking herself as Sandor had touched her, she groaned softly, finding all the sensitive spots that he had played like a fine instrument, evoking the most erotic music from her. Water slopped over the side of the tub as she lightly thrashed in the warm, soapy water, her orgasm rocking her.

As the glow of her climax faded, she wondered if there was a man that could ever make her feel like that again. Would the time she spent on his ship be the only time she would experience such ecstasy? She had been kissed by two men other than Sandor and she hadn't felt anything. Was she doomed to a life of comparing every man she ever met with him? She sighed in resignation. It was useless to even speculate. She would most likely never see Sandor Clegane again but knew that he would always be with her, whether she liked it or not.

It was the beginning of November and with the colder weather forcing Bronn indoors he resumed his search for the door to the hidden portion of the attic.

Sansa was busy in her sewing room when she heard some very typical sailor-type language coming down the hallway. Venturing out she peeked into the attic. Bronn was standing in front of the wall his hands on his hips.

"No luck yet?" she asked.

He spun around "No, no luck yet."

"How about to take your mind off it, you fetch a ladder from the barn and get those bags off the chandeliers in the ballroom and foyer," she suggested. "If they require any repairs we should get that done now."

He sighed heavily, glanced back at the wall once more and then made his way through the attic towards the door.

She was back in her sewing room trying to concentrate on her dress but kept thinking about the hidden door. She was wondering if the catch for it might be somewhere other than on the wall. She went down the hallway and stood in the entrance to the attic. Looking about she was wondering where to start. She turned to the door frame and thought that here was as good a place as any.

She knelt down and ran her fingers up along the edge of the frame, standing on her toes she skimmed them across the top. Halfway across she stopped and went back. What was that? she thought. There was a small piece of wood sticking up. She gently pushed on it but it didn't give. She gripped it and pulled gently. Still nothing. She pressed her fingers on it again and pushed harder. It suddenly snapped down and she heard a click to her left. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that a panel in the wall was indeed ajar. She stared in disbelief. Bronn had been searching for so long and she had found it in a matter of minutes. She ran down the hidden stairs calling his name and turned into the ball room just as he was coming down the ladder from the chandelier.

"Bronn," she gasped. "Come quickly, I found it!"

"Found what, las?" he asked running up the stairs behind her.

"The catch for the hidden door!" she shouted over her shoulder to him.

"Where?" He caught up to her in the entrance to the attic.

"Look," she said pointing to the open door in the wall.

He stood and stared in amazement. "Where did you find it?" he asked.

"It's up on top of the door frame," she said pointing up.

"Up there?" he said, amazed. "I never thought to look in another part of the room!"

"Well, go on. Don't you want to see what's in there?" she asked giving him a nudge. She didn't want to admit that she was actually a bit frightened to go in the room.

He slowly walked over to the door and pulled it open. Peering inside he looked around and then walked in. Sansa stood in the doorway and looked around. There was enough light from the attic windows so that they could see inside the small unlit room. It was extremely dusty and full of cobwebs. There were a number of chests on the floor, with keys in the locks. Bronn knelt down before one and wiped the dust off with his sleeve. He turned the key and slowly lifted the lid. It was full of burlap sacks, not unlike the ones that had held the pearls. These were much bigger though. He lifted one and heard the unmistakable clink of coins. He quickly looked up at Sansa with wide eyes. Setting the bag down on the floor, he undid the drawstring and opened the bag. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the contents.

"What is it?" Sansa whispered.

He looked up at her with shining eyes. "Gold," he said. Reaching inside, he pulled out a coin and tossed it to her. She caught it and walked over to one of the windows to examine it more closely.

"It's a plain coin, unstamped," she called out to him. "They must have been stolen before they had a chance to be stamped."

"Are we allowed to keep it?" Bronn asked from inside the room. 

"But if it's unstamped how can they trace it?" she asked. "Petyr said that both British and Spanish ships were targeted by the pirates. If we turned this over to the authorities they wouldn't know who to return it to," she said happily.

She returned to the entrance of the small room where Bronn was still checking the contents of the chests. "How much is there?" she asked excitedly.

"Quite a bit, las. There's silver too," he said, checking the last trunk. He pulled out the last few pouches and paused with them in his hands. He furrowed his brow as he rolled the small pouches in his hands.

"What is it?" she asked.

"These feel different. They're not coins," he said carrying the bags out into the lighter room.

"Well open them," she said impatiently.

He walked over to a small table and dumped out the contents. They both gasped loudly. A dozen diamonds sparkled on the table top. "Oh, Bronn, diamonds. Look at them, aren't they beautiful?" she exclaimed.

"Are those real?" He asked

Sansa picked up one of the glittering stones and held it up to the light. "I'm not sure," she said. "But if they were being hidden in that room, I would assume so," she said with a grin. "Open the other bag."

He undid the pouch and poured out its contents as well. An assortment of sparkling stones in hues of red, blue and green tumbled out of the bag.

"Bronn, I think we may be rich," she said with wonder.

"Well, you are. Not me," he said fingering the shining stones.

"No, we are rich. We're in this together and I intend to split everything with you. I would never have found this without your help. You're entitled to it just as much as I am." She picked up a large diamond. "I think I just recouped my original investment," she said with a laugh.

"Young las, do you know what that means if you share this with me?"

"That you'll be a very wealthy man?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes!" he laughed. "I'm going to ask Margaery to marry me." Gathering her into a big hug, he whispered, "Thank you Sansa. Thank you so much!"

"You're more than welcome Bronn. And congratulations," she said still smiling.

"Petyr was right about privateers owning the house. He did hint that there could be treasure hidden here," he said.

The smile from Sansa's face faded and her brow furrowed.

"What is it?"

Slowly she said, "Petyr knew that the house had been previously owned by privateers and that there could be treasure hidden here. One of the first things he said to me when we met was that he had been trying to buy this place from Otis for the longest time." She turned to Bronn and continued. "He explained it by saying that the soil is very good and that he was interested in expanding his operations a bit, but I can't help but wonder..."

"Was he after the treasure?" he finished for her.

"He did offer to help us go through these things," she said indicating all the crates and trunks in the main part of the attic, "which at the time, seemed such an unlikely thing for him to do." She put the diamonds back in the pouch and said, "Maybe we should just put all this back in the room for now, and until we decide just what to do with it, maybe not mention it to anyone. And in the meantime, perhaps it's time you showed me how to shoot one of those pistols you kept."

She began to gather up the gems, when a dark hued stone caught her eye. It was a slim piece of aegerine. She thought it strange that it was mixed in with the other stones. As she turned the smooth piece in her hands she was reminded of Sandor's eyes. They were the same color and held the same mystery. She slipped it into her pocket and put the remainder of jewels back into the pouch.

That night as she undressed the piece of aegerine fell from her pocket to the floor. She had forgotten she had put it there. She sat on the bed and stared at it. In the dim light of her room it did indeed remind her of his eyes. Those eyes that she had fallen into so deeply the first moment her gaze had fallen upon them. The stone caught the candle light and seemed to glow. Just as his eyes so often glowed when looking at her. She grasped it tightly in her hand and held it to her chest as tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. She placed the aegerine under her pillow and crawled beneath the sheets. She knew she would dream of him that night and this time she welcomed them.

Sandor stared deeply into her inviting blue eyes, eyes that were saying yes, eyes that were begging for the pleasure that only he could give her. They were gliding about the deck of his ship, dancing to the beat of their hearts. He picked her up and carried her to his cabin, kicking the door shut behind him. Her long red hair fanned out about her face as he lay her down on the bed, and she was somehow already undressed. He leant down to kiss her and could hear his heart beating, thumping in his chest, in his ears, thumping so loudly. She was crying out, calling him Captain. But it wasn't her voice, it was too deep, a man's voice.

Sandor opened his eyes and realized the thumping was coming from the door and one of his crew was calling his name. His hand reached out into the bed next to him; it was cold and empty. He had been dreaming of her again. Dreaming of that night. That last night he had spent with her. One of the many nights he almost wished had never happened, but was also so thankful they had.

Groggily he called out "What is it?"

"A storm up ahead Cap'in. It's far enough off that we should be able to sail around it."

He jumped out of bed, dressing quickly, memories of the last storm flooding through his mind. He looked at the bed and smiled as he recalled how scared she had been, huddled amongst the rumpled sheets. How he wished he could kiss her for luck again. He shook his head and pulled on his boots. "On my way!" he called out.

He ran up on deck and picking up the spy glass he put it to his eye. The flashes of lightening could be seen clearly up ahead. The storm was still quite far away, but they could lose a whole day trying to avoid it. The crew was already preparing the ship to go around when Sandor began shouting orders. They were going to go through it. The mean stared at him with shock and wonder, surprised that he would take such a risk. They knew he was eager to get back to America as soon as possible, but to purposely go right through a storm? The wind was already beginning to pick up and the ship was starting to rock. For the next few hours Sandor helped his crew raise and lower sails, pull men back from being swept overboard and just tried to keep the ship in one piece.

They finally pulled out leaving the thunder and lightening behind them and he staggered down to his cabin. He once again collapsed, exhausted onto the bed. This time, however, he awoke several hours later still fully dressed, still wet and still alone. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He put his head in his hands and reminded himself that he was almost there. Just a few more weeks and they would be back in Williamsburg.

He had only accepted an export job so he didn't need to go back to England right away. His first mate, Simpson, would return the crew home and he would stay behind. At least for a while. He needed time to convince Sansa of his feelings. He just hoped he wasn't too late and that someone else hadn't stolen her away.

For some reason this voyage was worse than the last one. He thought that perhaps by now he would be used to sleeping alone in his bed again. That he would be used to always returning to an empty cabin. That he would be glad that he was no longer tempted by her at every turn. But each day that it continued it only seemed to get worse.

He had to be careful though when he did see her again. He didn't want to scare her away or overwhelm her with what she was sure to think was a false display of emotion. But he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. It would all depend on how she reacted to him. He would be polite and pleasant and base his words and actions on how she acted.

He stood up and began to peel off his wet clothes, satisfied with his decision. He crawled under the damp blankets and remembered what had happened in the aftermath of the last storm. How he had awoken to her fingers gently trailing across his chest. Her fingers touching his bare skin had been exciting enough but the look in her eyes, the wonder and passion burning there, had driven him over the edge. He recalled how he had attempted to seduce her but had only succeeded in terrifying her with his demands of payment for her crossing. He gave in to the fantasy where she had passionately welcomed his advances and closed his eyes. Dawn was peeking through the portholes as he drifted off to sleep and back into dreams of inviting sapphire eyes.

It was mid-November as Bronn's romance with Margaery continued and Sansa was beginning to wonder when he would propose.

One afternoon during lunch she noticed that he seemed very distracted.

"Bronn, are you all right?" she asked.

When he didn't respond, she gave him a small nudge. "Are you all right?" she asked again.

"Hm? Oh. Yes, yes, I'm fine. No, no, I'm not," he said, putting his fork down.

Concerned, she asked, "What is it?"

He laughed before answering. "It;s rather silly really, I want to ask her to marry me, but I'm not sure how to do it. Do I have to ask her father first, or do I ask her?"

"You should ask her father first. Her parents love you Bronn. And Margaery loves you too. I don't think you have anything to worry about," she said encouragingly.

"Should I buy her a ring then?" he asked.

"Yes, I think having a ring ready would be a very good idea."

"What kind should I get?"

"Well, there are several options. There's a tradition of choosing one with a number of stones where the first letter of the name of each one spells out a short message." Images of Joffrey presenting her with the large diamond flashed through her mind. "Or, as men in Europe are beginning to do, so I've been told, is to give their fiancées diamond rings."

Bronn detected a strange note in her voice and looking up saw a flash of pain in her eyes. Remembering the large diamond ring that she had traded for the farm and her brief mention of leaving a fiancé behind in Liverpool he quickly realized that that ring must have been her engagement ring.

"Diamonds," he said quietly.

"Really, any type of stone will do," she said, mentally giving herself a shake. She was not going to feel sorry for herself over her failed engagement. Smiling, she added, "I'm sure that whatever you choose, she will love it."

"Could I use one of the diamonds we found?" he asked.

"I don't see why not," she said.

"Will you help me to pick out a good one and also help in getting it made into a ring?" 

Putting an arm around his shoulders and giving him an affectionate squeeze, she replied, "Of course I will."

The next morning they rode into town and paid a discreet visit to the goldsmith. Bronn presented the diamond they had chosen. "Can you tell me if it's a good one?" he asked the goldsmith.

The man put his jewelers loop to his eye and examined the stone. Looking up he said, "Sir, this is a magnificent stone. Did you wish to have it made into something?"

"Yes sir. A ring, an engagement ring," he said. He chose a simple setting and was told to come back in two weeks.

Before they left, Sansa held out the piece of aegirine that she had been carrying in her pocket. "Could you drill a hole in this and hang it on a chain?" she asked him.

He took the stone from her and said that indeed he could. "It will only take a moment, would you care to wait?"

He returned in a moment with the stone and an assortment of chains. She chose a long one so that it would hang near her heart.

Outside on the street he lamented "Two weeks? How am I going to be able to wait two weeks? Every time I see her I'm going to want to tell her that I'm having an engagement ring made for her." He suddenly stopped walking.

Sansa turned smiling to Bronn, but the smile quickly disappeared from her face. "Are you all right?" He was pale and seemed slightly dazed.

"I'm having an engagement ring made for her..." he whispered. He slowly turned to Sansa. "I'm going to ask her to marry me. It just really hit me, just now. I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Yes, Bronn, you are," Sansa said encouragingly. "Would you like to think of a reason to visit the mercantile?"

"No. I don't know if I'll be able to keep this a secret. We should just go back home. Besides, aren't you going to see Mr. Baelish this afternoon?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm visiting Petyr later today," she replied.

"Do you like him?" He asked, as a father would.

"Yes, I do."

"Are you going to marry him?"

She laughed and said, "I don't know, Bronn. We've both had our hearts broken so we're taking it slow. It's too soon to tell."

He hesitated and then asked, "Did Cap'in Clegane break your heart?" When she didn't answer at first, he apologized for prying. "I'm sorry, las. It's none of my business."

She put her palm over her new pendant hanging beneath her dress. "No, it's alright. Yes, he did. He broke my heart, but, despite that, I think I still love him," she said quietly.

"He'll be back soon. Probably about another month or so."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Bronn. He usually stays home for quite some time before coming back. And it may not even be here," she said. "There are ports all along the coast. He could go to any one of those."

"When I last spoke with him, he said he'd be back here soon. That he wouldn't stay in Liverpool long. So that would mean he'll be here in about a month."

"Yes, I know," she said. She hated to admit it but she had calculated approximately how long it would take before he would be back if he didn't stay long in Liverpool. She had been both looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.

"I consider him my friend and would like to see him when he's back," he continued.

"That's fine. Of course you would."

"I'd like to show him the farm." He saw her go pale, and he quickly continued. "I know it's really your place, but I'm proud of what we've done here and would like him to see how well we're doing. Perhaps we can arrange for you to be visiting the Baelish's."

"I don't know, Bronn," she said uncertainly. Even if she was visiting them, she would be distracted the entire time, knowing that Sandor was in her home. Seeing his disappointed face she said, "I'll think about it. Maybe I just need to get used to the idea."

"Alright," he said. "In foreign ports he never stays too long anyway. He usually wants to get back to Liverpool, so he'll probably only be here for about a month."

"Yes, I know how quickly he leaves," she said quietly.

They had arrived home and once inside, he asked "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer, but I'm curious. What did he do, Cap'in Clegane, that is, to break your heart?"

"It's complicated. But I guess it boils down to, that he lied to me." Turning thoughtful she continued, "No, not lied. I think deceived is a better word. He led me to believe one thing while the truth was something else. But it doesn't really matter. He's probably forgotten all about me by now. And I should do the same about him."

"I don't think that's true," he raised an eyebrow

"Why do you say that?" she asked him.

Hesitating he said, "I'm going to tell you something, and you might be angry at first, but try to understand."

Bewildered, she asked him, "What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath and said, "I didn't just work my way across on the Aurora," he began without looking at her. "I was a regular crew member all ready to return to England, but just as we were docking Cap'in Clegane asked me if I would like to stay here." He chanced a quick look at her. Her face was unreadable. "...stay here to keep an eye on you."

"Keep an eye on me? What do you mean?" she cried.

"He didn't want to lose track of you. He had to go back to England right away. But he also wanted to be able to find you when he came back here again and he wanted to know that you would be safe while he was gone."

"You've been lying to me all this time?" she asked him quietly.

"I've hated having to lie to you and make up stories, las."

"So why are you telling me now?" she asked with tears in her eyes. She never thought that he was capable of such deceit.

"Because I think you should know that he does care about you. I see you with all this hurt that you think he's caused you, but maybe he didn't mean it, or it's not as bad as you think," he said hopefully. "He set up a bank account in town for me, so that we would have some money, because he didn't know if you had any. I bought the horses and the cart with some of it."

"He just wanted to make sure that I would be alright?" she asked quietly, her eyes still glistening with tears.

He wordlessly nodded.

"He went to all that trouble?"

He again nodded.

Her mind was reeling with this information and she wasn't sure what she was feeling. "Bronn, could you please send a message to Petyr saying that I'm not feeling well and will not be able to see him this afternoon? I need to go lie down for a little while." She slowly climbed the stairs trying to digest what Bronn had told her and what it all meant.

She lay down on her bed and tried to sort out her feelings. She forgave Bronn for the charade he had been putting on. He hadn't meant any harm. But she didn't know what to think about Sandor. She pulled out her new aegirine pendant and stared at it. Why did he want to keep track of her? So that he had a plaything whenever he was in town? No, he wouldn't go to all that trouble for a few days of fun a year. There were establishments in town that could supply that for far less money and effort.

She had stowed away on his ship of her own free will so making sure that she was able to support herself once here wasn't his responsibility, yet he had taken that on by setting up a bank account for Bronn. She tossed and turned on the bed trying to make sense of it all, but it seemed that no matter how hard she tried to see it differently, it always came back to appear that he did care about her after all. But even if he did come back and tried to see her, would she be able to trust him? And what if he left again after only a few weeks? She remembered how often she had seen him in Liverpool. He obviously preferred it there to here. So, even if he did care about her and wanted to make sure that she was safe, it didn't matter. There was no future with him, so it would be best if she just forgot about him and moved on with her life. After all, she was only twenty years old, far too young to cast love aside. She no longer needed a husband for security, but she did want a family and children someday. She thought Petyr could offer her that. But did she love him? Would she ever love him?

She groaned aloud and turned over in the bed again. She was back in the same dilemma as she was in Liverpool. No, the dilemma was not the same she reminded herself as she sat up and tossed her hair out of her face. In Liverpool she was in a situation where she didn't have much choice but to marry a man she didn't love. Here, because of the treasure upstairs, she could truly marry for love. She would find that man who caused the heavens to part and the angels to sing. Feeling better she dropped the aegirine stone back inside her dress and got up and began to fix her hair. She would meet lots of men at her Christmas party. Maybe he would be one of the guests. She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind telling her that she had already found that man.

"Are you feeling better, my dear?" Petyr asked her.

"Yes, it was just a headache." Sansa replied.

It was few days later and she was enjoying lunch with Petyr at his home. He was very concerned that she had broken their date earlier in the week.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, placing his hand over hers.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Agnes tells me your cousin is quite serious about the Tyrell girl. Is that right?"

"Yes, he's planning to ask her to marry him. But don't tell anyone. He doesn't want anyone to know."

"Is he in a position to take a wife?" he asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, Bronn is actually very well off. He has a small fortune," she said with a smile.

"I had no idea," he said, obviously impressed.

"He didn't either. He just recently discovered it," she said, almost telling the truth.

"Long lost relatives?"

"Something like that," she said, still not quite telling a lie. "He's very excited though. The fact that he didn't really have anything to offer her was weighing on his mind. There's an out-building on the property that we're planning to expand and they'll live there."

"It sounds like you've given this quite a bit of thought," he mused.

"Actually it's Bronn who's given it a lot of thought. I think he fell in love with Margaery the moment he saw her," she said wistfully. The memory of how she felt the first time she had looked into Sandor's eyes as he held her on that icy street in Liverpool flashed through her mind. She knew only too well how love at first sight felt. Mentally shaking away the feelings she said "I'm afraid I'll be rather lonely in that big house all by myself, though," she said.

"Perhaps your living arrangements will have changed by then," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, although she was sure she already knew.

"Just that things change," he replied, cryptically.

She was sure he was alluding to her moving into his house as his wife. The idea didn't thrill her. She didn't want to give up her house. For the first time she actually owned something and she liked the feeling. Although, she could hardly expect any prospective husband to give up his home and move into hers.

"Yes, they most certainly do," she replied, just as cryptically.

"Agnes, I had no idea how much work went into planning one of these," she said with amazement. She had finished her lunch with Petyr and was attending to the details of her party with Agnes. "I've attended countless balls and parties and never truly appreciated the efforts behind them."

"Yes, my dear, they are quite time consuming, but once you get used to it, they can be quite a bit of fun as well," she said gaily. "And you should use that beautiful ballroom while you have the chance," she said with a smile.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you won't be living in that house for much longer, now will you? I daresay you'll be getting married soon and moving."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she said slowly. Brightening she continued, "Well then, you're right, I should make the most of it while I can, shouldn't I?"

"Now what did you want to serve your guests for dinner? Oh, and there should be a midnight buffet as well."

They spent the next two hours discussing menu options.

Margaery was worried. She hadn't seen Bronn for more than a week. He had declined a lunch invitation and hadn't even been to the store. She was afraid she had done something wrong or that something had happened and he was no longer interested in her. She had seen him walk by the store on the other side of the street a couple of times, but had not come in. She had asked her grandmother what she should do, but her mother had cautioned her about chasing after him. Polite young women didn't chase after men, she told her. She also told her to be patient, that she was sure he had his reasons and that everything would be fine.

The week passed and it was time to return to the jewelers to pick up the engagement ring. Sansa was huddled under a blanket in the cart. "Bronn I think perhaps we should buy a carriage. We can use some of the gold and get one. I'm freezing."

Distracted, he didn't hear her comment and instead asked, "How should I ask her, las? Should I do it today? Should I walk right into the store and do it?"

"No, you should invite her to the house tomorrow and ask her there. You can do that right before we visit the carriage makers."

"Carriage makers?" he asked, making it obvious that he had not been paying attention to her earlier.

"Yes. We need a carriage. We can afford one now and we're going to buy one today. Although we probably need to order one and it'll be weeks and weeks before it's ready," she said still shivering.

"Maybe the Baelish's have a spare one we could borrow until ours is ready," he suggested. "I've noticed that they have more than one."

"Perfect. That's what we'll do," she said climbing down from the cart. They left it a few blocks down from the jewelers so that it wasn't obvious that that's where they were. They entered the store and were greeted with a large smile from the goldsmith.

"Ah yes, Mr. Bronn, your ring. I have it right here," he said producing a velvet covered box. He opened it to display the ring. It flashed and sparkled in the weak sunlight coming through the windows.

Bronn stared at the ring in amazement and slowly took the box from the jeweler's hand. He tipped the small box causing the light to flash off the surfaces of the ring. He took it out and held it up for Sansa to see. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked with wonder, smiling broadly.

She took the ring from him and looked at it closely. She examined the work of the goldsmith and satisfied that the stone was secure she handed it back to Bronn. "She's going to love it."

The jeweler put the ring in its box inside a velvet pouch and Bronn paid him. Sansa put the small bag into her purse and they went to see Margaery at the mercantile.

The bell above the door jingled and Margaery looked up expectantly. She had seen Bronn and Sansa Virginia walk by on the other side of the street and she wondered if they would come in. When she saw Bronn's eager and happy face, she almost fainted with relief. He approached the counter. After exchanging greetings Sansa asked for Margaery's help in finding some items in the store. While they were gone, Bronn located Mrs. Tyrell and spoke with her briefly. The old woman inquired about Bronn's financial situation and after he assured her that he had recently come into a small fortune and that Margaery would never want for anything Mrs. Tyrell gave him her blessing.

Margaery was helping Sansa decide between two different hair combs when she tentatively asked, "I haven't seen you for awhile Sansa. Is everything alright at the farm?"

Sansa knew that Bronn was so nervous about his pending proposal that he had been avoiding Margaery for the last two weeks. She had every right to be worried.

"Oh yes, everything is fine. We've both been very busy. Repairing things and getting the place ready for the ball we're planning.. I never realized how much work it is." Still seeing the worry in those blue eyes, she said, "Don't worry, his feelings for you haven't changed. He's just had things on his mind."

Bronn and Mrs. Tyrell were finishing their conversation just as the two young women reappeared.

"What was that about?" Margaery asked after seeing the exchange.

"Just saying hello," Bronn said, smiling happily. "Margaery, would you like to come out to the farm for lunch tomorrow?" he asked.

She was so relieved to see him so happy and excited that her worries immediately evaporated. She looked to her grandmother, who nodded before she said, "Yes, I would love to."

"Wonderful. I'll see you tomorrow then, around noon?"

"Yes, noon, tomorrow."

They exited the store and after a few steps, when they were out of view, Bronn lifted Sansa in the air and spun her around.

Sansa laughed, and when he put her down she smiled, "I take it Mrs. Tyrell gave you her blessing?"

"She did." His wolfish grin covered half of his face. "I don't know if I can wait until tomorrow.

"Well you have to. Now come help me buy a carriage," she said, hurrying him along the street.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains hints of non-con. Hope you guys like it, comments are always appreciated :)

The next day did come and Bronn was up early and pacing through the downstairs rooms. The ring was in it's velvet box in his pocket and he kept taking it out and looking at it. Sansa was preparing lunch in the kitchen. "It's still an hour to go, we should have invited her to dinner last night," he said. He paced about the room and kept going out into the hallway to check the clock.

She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Bronn, calm down. The time isn't going to go any faster with you pacing about. Why don't you play the piano while you wait? Some music would be nice and it might help you relax. The way you are now, you'll be on one knee the moment she walks through the door."

He stopped and stared at her. "Is that what I have to do? Kneel when I ask her?"

"Yes, I think that's usually what's done. It's what Joffrey did when he asked me," she said tasting the soup she was making.

"Down on one knee or both?" he asked.

"Just one," she replied.

"And what should I say?"

"Well, you should start by telling her how much you love her and that you hope that she feels the same way. When she agrees that she does, you should then tell her how happy she makes you and that you hope she'll make you even happier by agreeing to be your wife. That's when you go down on one knee. Open the box and say 'Margaery Tyrell, will you marry me?'" Sansas voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh look at me, getting all teary just talking about it!" She took a deep breath and then continued, "She'll say yes, and she will say yes, don't worry about that, and then you place the ring on her finger and kiss her."

"Alright. Say all that again," he said.

Laughing, she said to him, "You only need to say what's in your heart. It'll come out just fine."

He walked out of the room muttering to himself, "I love you, you make me happy, even happier be my wife, down on one knee..." Moments later she heard a lively tune being played badly on the piano.

The Tyrell's carriage finally arrived and Bronn watched as both Margaery and her grandmother stepped out. Sansa greeted them at the front door and letting Margaery go ahead she whispered to Mrs. Tyrell, "This is so very exciting." The old woman took her hand and smiled.

They were seated in the front parlor at a small table where they ate lunch. Bronn was anxious and nervous throughout the meal. Margaery repeatedly asked him if he was alright, while Sansa and Mrs. Tyrell exchanged knowing glances.

After the meal, Sansa began to clear the dishes and the older woman offered to help carry them to the kitchen. Margaery stared at her grandmother in astonishment. She was shocked that her grandmother would leave her unchaperoned with a man. Seeing her expression, she said to her grand daughter, "I'll only be a minute dear."

The moment they were gone, Bronn nervously asked her if she would like to move to the sofa. They sat down and Bronn took her hand in his. He told her how he felt about her and when he asked if she loved him too he held his breath waiting for her answer.

She bashfully lowered her eyes and said quietly, "Yes, Bronn, I love you too."

He was so incredibly happy that he forgot the rest of his eloquently prepared speech and immediately knelt in front of her. He dug the small box out of his coat pocket and opened it, displaying the sparkling ring inside. "Margaery, will you marry me?" he asked in a quavering voice.

She stared open mouthed at the ring in the box and then into Bronn's eager face. Her eyes filled with tears and her lips spread into a joyous smile. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yes, Bronn, yes," she said, pulling him close. Leaning back she looked at him with shining eyes and said, "Yes, I'll marry you."

With shaking hands, Bronn slid the ring onto her slim finger. He had asked the jeweler to make it small and it fit her perfectly. He sat beside her on the couch and taking her glowing face in his hands he gently kissed her. He looked down at the ring on her finger and smiled. 

Sansa and Mrs. Tyrell rushed into the room to congratulate them. Her grandmother hugged her as Margaery asked, "You knew? How did you know?"

"Bronn spoke with me yesterday."

"Are you happy grandmother?"

"Yes, dear. I couldn't be more thrilled."

"When will the wedding be?" Sansa asked excitedly.

"Oh I don't know. Soon," Margaery said uncertainly.

"How about twelfth night?" her grandmother suggested. "That's close enough without being too close."

Staring into Bronn's eyes, Margaery said, "That sounds perfect."

The next few weeks passed in a whirl for Sansa. She was already busy planning the Christmas Ball, as well as trying to make herself some dresses and now there was also a wedding to plan. She had set her ball for New Year's Eve and was consulting a calendar when a cold thrill suddenly shot through her. She stared at the calendar without seeing it. Sandor will be back any day now she thought. What would she do if she saw him? How would she react? How should she react? Should she rush into his arms and forgive him or should she be cool and distant? She sat down on a couch and thought about it. I'll be pleasant and polite, she thought and then base my words and actions on how he behaves. Satisfied with her decision she resumed her task.

Later that day, Bronn found her in the library checking the guest list. "Have many people responded to the invitation?"

"Yes, I've received almost all of the responses and everyone so far has said they will attend!"

"We're supposed to go pick up the carriage today," he reminded her.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot! How exciting! We'll go right away, let me get my cloak."

Petyr had been happy to loan them a carriage while theirs was being made. Bronn had liked sitting up front and driving. It was much more comfortable than the cart and warmer too. Petyr had also agreed to help them bring the new carriage home, so they stopped at his home to pick him up. He, of course, brought his driver with him so Bronn was able to join the couple in the cab.

"I guess I'll need to look into hiring a driver soon. Now that you'll soon be married Bronn, you won't be available to drive me into town whenever I need to go. I actually may need to hire a number of servants to help me since you plan to live in the out building."

"Margaery and I will live in the house with you until the other one is ready. It really should be bigger and like you said it won't be finished until late summer, so there's plenty of time."

"And you never know, you may never need to worry about staffing that house," Petyr said suggestively.

He had been making more and more remarks such as that one lately and Sansa was beginning to think that he may propose soon. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that. She was still getting her bearings in this new country and still finding out who she was. Having spent her whole life defined as Eddard Stark's daughter, she had assumed that she would eventually be known as someone's wife. To be just Sansa Stark now was exciting and she was enjoying it. And she wanted to enjoy it awhile longer before becoming known as someone's wife.

Several hours later they returned home with their carriage. "Should we get a new horse, just for the carriage?" she asked. "Both Stranger and Lady are meant for personal riding, so I think we should. What do you think Bronn?"

Taking her hands in his, he said to her gently, "You're going to have to stop consulting me on decisions, las. I'm sorry to have to point it out but we're not going to be partners for much longer and you're going to have to get used to making decisions on your own. Although, judging from the way Mr. Baelish talks, it sounds like he may be making your decisions from now on."

"Yes, I know," she said sitting at the table. Looking up at him she said, "For the first time in my life, I'm my own person. I'm Sansa Stark. I'm not being defined by which man I'm attached to. Plus, I own something, and not just a dress or a hairbrush. But really own something. And I'm making my own decisions. And I like it! I love this independence! Knowing that I don't ever have to worry about money again, knowing that I can marry for love and not for security. I love this house because we found it and gave it a rebirth. I don't want to leave it Bronn. But I also want to get married and have a family. How can I do that and keep the house?"

"Maybe Mr. Baelish would be willing to move in here with you?" he suggested.

She laughed gently. "What, and leave his big mansion to come live here? Somehow I don't think he would do that."

"So you don't want to marry him?' he asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe, but not now. I'd rather wait awhile, perhaps another year and then I may be ready to become Mrs. Petyr Baelish."

"Perhaps you should let him know that," he suggested.

"Maybe I'll start dropping hints about loving my independence and this house and being my own person and so on. And then I'll chart my next course of action based upon how he reacts."

The next morning she walked up the stairs to her sewing room, looking forward to working on one of her dresses. She usually found it to be soothing and occupied her mind just enough so that she didn't have to think about Petyr or Sandor or her future. All she had to do was concentrate on a straight seam. That wasn't to be the case today though. Her mind kept wandering and she had to undo the same seam three times before she finally gave up. She was trying to imagine scenarios where she could hint to Petyr that she didn't want to get married right away but wished to eventually. She was worried that she might give the wrong impression and that he might think that she just didn't want to marry him. She was worried that he would think that she had been leading him on, deceiving him. She knew what that kind of betrayal felt like.

With that her thoughts drifted to Sandor. She usually pushed thoughts such as these away but today she closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her. The nights on the ship had been heavenly. She had never known such intense pleasure and wondered if she ever would again. Sandor's intense grey eyes, full of passion, asking the question, danced beneath her closed lids. She thought about the hour she spent with him, trapped in his carriage during the storm. Her breath caught in her throat again as she recalled the sensation of his tongue trailing down her throat and the kiss they had shared.

Her thoughts then turned to the night of the Summer Ball. The way he had kissed her on the terrace. They way his lips on her exposed flesh had ignited the flames of passion that had ultimately been her undoing. It had been her first passionate embrace, and that night she had wondered if she would ever again experience such passion in a man's arms. She most certainly did but she never would have thought that it would be from him. She was once again laying on the bed in his cabin soon after she had been discovered to be on board. She smiled as she recalled her shock and revulsion the first time he slid his tongue into her mouth.

What would she say if when he returned he told her that he loved her and wanted to marry her. That he wanted to live with her in her house in Williamsburg and build a life there. She indulged in the fantasy. She imagined them in the large backyard, on a sunny afternoon, enjoying a romantic pic-nic while their children played nearby. She imagined them together in her large four poster bed, tangled up in the sheets. Images of them out riding together, attending balls together, everyone admiring her handsome and charming husband.

She shook her head and silently chastised herself for such foolishness. That will never happen she thought. Not with Sandor anyway. She held onto the images though. Perhaps with Petyr. Or perhaps someone she hadn't met yet. She tried to replay them without a face on the man, but no matter how hard she tried, Sandor's burned face was always there.

Petyr came by for a visit the next day. Although it was cold out, the day was clear and sunny and they decided to take their horses out to get some exercise.

"These fields look as though they've been plowed recently. Did you have some work done?" he asked her as they rode by one of the fields.

"Actually Bronn and I did it. We bought a couple of oxen and with a plow from the barn we did all of them over the course of a couple of weeks," she said proudly.

He looked at her with astonishment. "The two of you did this yourselves? You plowed the fields?"

Chuckling at his reaction she replied, "Don't look so astonished, Petyr. I rather enjoyed it. I suppose it may have been the novelty of it, but I think a part of it may have been working my own land. Getting it ready for spring. I'm looking forward to planting and harvesting my first crops."

"But my dear, you should hire someone to do that sort of thing. This is, if you're even still here," he said suggestively.

"Oh I intend to be here. Have I told you how much I'm enjoying myself these days?"

"Well, you do seem happy," Petyr offered, not sure what she meant.

She tipped her face into the wind, letting the breeze blow her hair back. "I am happy, Petyr. Happier than I've ever been. I've never had such independence. I didn't even know I wanted it until it was thrust upon me. And now I'll be reluctant to let it go. I know I will have to someday, when I marry," she said, giving him a shy smile before continuing, "but until then I intend to make the most it."

"How long do you think that will be?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Oh I don't know, a year perhaps, maybe two," she said.

"Two years," he repeated. "That's a long time."

"Oh, Petyr, you have no idea what it's like," she said eagerly, trying to make him understand. "Imagine spending your whole life expecting to belong to someone else and then all of a sudden you only belong to yourself. I guess for you it would have been the moment you stepped out of your father's shadow and became a man in your own right. Now imagine having to go back."

He furrowed his brow for a moment and then looked at her. "Yes, I can see what you mean," he conceded. "But I suppose as a woman that is your lot in life."

"Not if I don't want it to be," she declared. "This is America, the land of opportunity and I plan to take full advantage of that opportunity."

"But you do want to marry eventually?" he asked hesitantly, as if he wasn't quite sure what her point had been.

"Oh, yes. I want to marry and have a family but I want to enjoy myself a bit first. Just give me a little time, alright?" She gave him an encouraging smile.

Sansa returned from her ride with Petyr and after he had left she found Bronn up on a ladder making some minor repairs to one of the chandeliers. "Did you manage to get your hint across?" he asked her.

"Yes, I did. I tried to explain it to him, and I think he understood. He knows that I should like to marry someday, just not now. I think it went well," she said happily. "Although he was quite surprised to learn that we plowed the fields ourselves," she continued laughing.

"Yes I can imagine he would be. I'm sure he's never gotten his hands dirty his whole life," he laughed.

"I'm going to go upstairs and change out of my riding clothes," she informed him as she left the room.

She returned downstairs to find Bronn putting on his coat. "Where are you going?" she asked.

He held up a few small pieces twisted pieces of metal. "These are from the chandelier. I'm going into town to see if the blacksmith can fix them, or make new ones."

Sansa looked at the clock in the hallway. "It's almost five o'clock Bronn. Will he still be there?"

"I'm hoping I can make it in time. I'll see you later." He rushed out the door and a few minutes later she heard Lady's hooves trotting down the front drive. She slowly walked through the sitting room into the music room. She sat in front of the piano and ran her fingers over the keys. She had taken lessons as a little girl but she barely remembered any of it. She got up and wandered into the library. She hadn't spent much time in here yet and thus she wasn't familiar with its contents. Now is as good a time as any she thought to herself, scanning the books along the shelves. She found a few of interest and carried them over to one of the chairs. She built a fire in the grate and was soon absorbed in her book.

Bronn quickly rode into town and caught the smith just as he was closing his forge. He was appropriately called Mr. Black. He showed Mr. Black the broken pieces and asked him if he could either repair them or make new ones. The smith turned them over examining them in the dying light. "I think I should be able to repair them. Shouldn't take long. I'll work on them first thing tomorrow. Come by in the morning, I'll have them ready for you."

"Thank you," Bronn said.

As he was leaving the smith called out to him, "By the way, congratulations on your engagement."

Bronn looked at him in surprise "Thank you, but how did you know?"

"Williamsburg may be growing quickly but in some ways it's still a small town. Good news travels fast."

As Bronn rode back through town, he took a detour to ride by the harbor. He missed the companionship of the other sailors and was wistful as he looked at the tall masts of the ships bobbing in the harbor. He reminded himself that if he was still leading that life he never would have met Margaery, or Sansa for that matter. He also wouldn't be splitting a fortune in gold, silver and gems with her either. Smiling to himself he realized that he had made the right decision.

Further along he noticed a large luxury passenger ship that had just arrived. Its well-to-do passengers were disembarking and all were looking for the best hotel in town. He overheard a young man with blond hair speaking rudely to a carriage driver. He must be one of the upper class from Liverpool he thought. He has the same accent as Sansa.

Joffrey sat in the carriage as it made its way through the busy streets. He could barely understand the driver and had had a very difficult time coming to an agreement on where he wanted to go. Night was falling and it was difficult to see what sort of a place Williamsburg was. He would stay at a hotel tonight and begin his search for Sansa in the morning.

Much later that night, the Aurora arrived, slowly making its way through the crowded harbor. Sandor was eager to disembark and go looking for Sansa and Bronn but knew that it was far too early. The sun hadn't even begun to rise. Plus he had business to attend to first. He knew they were going to try farming so all he had to do was go to the courthouse and see if they had bought one. If not he was sure someone in town would know where they were. It would be awhile before the harbor master arrived, so he retired to his cabin to get a few hours sleep.

When he awoke the sun had risen and there was activity on deck. He quickly washed, shaved and dressed and then went up on deck. He squinted into the early morning sun and looked at Williamsburg. Every time he came back he could swear it was bigger. Simpson approached him, "The harbor master is here Captain."

"Thank you Simpson. Why don't you start getting the shipment ready for unloading?"

"Already started, sir."

"Very good then," he said as he made his way to check in with the harbor master. He accomplished that quickly and then made his way to the import office. He concluded his business there quickly as well. He returned to the ship and located Simpson "I'm leaving you in charge of this. There's something I need to do."

"Yes sir," he replied. "And good luck, sir," he added, knowing what is was that Sandor was off to do.

Sandor smiled and nodded wordlessly before running off the ship. On his way to the courthouse he passed the mercantile. He figured they would know everyone in town so he decided to stop there first and ask. He walked in and approached a pretty girl behind the counter. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for either a Sansa Stark or a Bronn Reyne that may be living in this area. Do you know either of them?"

The girl was at first shocked by his face, but tried not to stare,"Yes sir, I do." She was absent mindedly twisting a large diamond ring on her ring finger.

He let out a low whistle and said, "That's quite a ring you have there. Are you engaged? If so, he must be very wealthy."

"Yes sir, he is. Actually it's Bronn Reyne that I'm engaged to," she replied, extending her hand to show him the ring.

Sandor stared at her in amazement. Bronn wealthy? How was that possible? He had only been gone five months. I guess it's true that anything's possible in the New World. "Well congratulations miss, he's a good man. My name is Sandor Clegane, I'm a former employer of his. Do you know where I can find him, or rather Miss Stark? She's the one I'd really like to see."

"Well, they live together on her farm."

"On her farm?"

"Yes sir. Aurora."

Sandor stared at her in amazement again. "Aurora? She named her farm Aurora?" If she had done that then maybe she had forgiven him and he still had a chance. A smile crept across his face.

"Yes, Bronn said she named it after a ship that he was a sailor on. You just said you used to employ Bronn. Are you the captain of the Aurora?"

"Yes, I am. I'm very pleased she named her farm after my ship. Can you tell me how to get there?"

She gave him directions and just as he was leaving, she commented, "You're the second person today to ask me where her farm is."

"I am?" he turned back to her. "Who else asked?"

"Another man, he didn't give me his name but I noticed that Miss Stark and he have the exact same accent."

Sandor heard alarm bells going off in his head. "What did he look like?"

"He wasn't as tall as you, just average height, with light blond hair and pale green eyes. And he wasn't very nice, rather rude actually," she said.

"Joffrey," he whispered. He called out, "Thank you," over his shoulder as he ran out of the store. He had originally planned to hire a carriage to take him out to the farm but realized that that would take too long. He needed a horse. His mind raced, trying to figure out where he could quickly get one.

He ran to the importer's office just down the street and asked a friend there if he could borrow his horse. The man noticed the urgency in Sandor's request and agreed. He indicated which one was his and Sandor took off at a gallop. He didn't know what Joffrey wanted with Sansa but knew it couldn't be good. He just prayed he would get there in time.

The hired carriage passed Bronn on his way into town to pick up the chandelier pieces from the smith. As it went by he thought he recognized the man inside as the rude one he had seen in the harbor the night before. He didn't think much of it and continued into town.

Joffrey arrived at the farm and told the driver to wait for him. He stood outside for a moment surveying the house. It's a good sized house, he thought, not too bad. He turned and noted that they were close to the river, a wise choice. He looked out at the fields beyond. The girl at the mercantile had told him the farm was called Aurora. He snorted with disgust. She must have had an affair with Clegane to name her farm after his damned ship he thought to himself. He walked up the front steps and using the knocker banged on the door. At first he thought that perhaps no one was home and was about to knock again when the door opened and he was looking into Sansa's shocked face.

Sansa acted upon her first instinct when she saw Joffrey on her doorstep and quickly swung the door closed. He pushed it back open though and burst inside the house. She nervously stepped away from him. "What are you doing here, Joffrey?" she asked him as he approached her. She knew that eventually he would discover where she had really gone but had doubted that he would actually come after her.

The humiliation her disappearance had caused him came bubbling to the surface in the form of anger. She could see the fury burning in his eyes as he sarcastically said, "What, no joyful greeting for your long lost fiancé?"

"You're no longer my fiancé, Joffrey. I told you that in the note I left you."

"Ah yes, the note you left. The one where you said you were going to France." He looked around and said, "I found out from a very helpful young woman at the mercantile that you live here with your 'cousin', Bronn Reyne. Is he here?" He tilted his head back and yelled "Bronn Reyne? Hello?" When he received no response he said, "I guess he's gone out." Still stalking her he continued "She also told me that you own this farm. When you left England you were destitute. How did you manage to finance this?" He pointedly looked down at her hand. "Where is the ring I gave you, love?"

Slowly backing away from him and ignoring his question she asked "How did you find me?" She wondered if she would be able to outrun him up the stairs and into the hidden staircase. It would take him quite awhile to find the catch and by that time she could be hidden in the small room off the attic. He would never find her there. However, she didn't think her chances of outrunning him were very good. She would have to think of something else. Where were those pistols? Bronn had taught her months ago how to use one, but she had never practiced. Still it was worth a try. She remembered one was in the sideboard in the music room. She began making her way over there.

"How did I find you? Imagine my surprise when the Aurora sailed back into town and the sailors began spreading the story of the pretty red headed stow away."

She had forgotten that the men would have been unable to resist telling that story.

"So, I asked a few questions. And imagine my further surprise when I found out that after you were you discovered on board, you spent the remainder of the journey sleeping with the ship's captain!"

Trying to pacify him, she said, "It was a perfectly innocent arrangement Joffrey. Nothing happened. There were no available berths on the ship and since San...er... Captain Clegane was the only gentleman on board, he felt it best that I share his cabin."

"The sailors I spoke with said you had a romance. That it was understood amongst them that you were 'with' the captain."

"That was only done to ensure my safety. Really Joffrey, I can't believe that you would trust the word of sailors. You know how they exaggerate. And besides, you know me, I would never do something like that." She was halfway through the sitting room, she just had to get into the next room and she would be fine.

"Yes, I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. I thought you were the sort of woman who would honor her obligations, her promises and those of her late father." The malice in his voice, caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up on end. It took every ounce of her willpower not to turn and run. She needed to keep a steady head and not to let him out of her sight.

"I was not going to marry a man who already had a mistress and an evil temperament that he had been hiding. You were unfaithful and dishonest. And the agreement you made with my father did not include marriage. And even if it had, I felt that your actions had already dishonored it."

He started and looked at her with surprise. "You know about Meredith?" he asked.

"Yes, I saw the two of you together in the garden during the Summer Ball."

He furrowed his brow as he tried to remember what they had been doing. It came to him and he began to chuckle, "That does explain your sudden desire to leave early that night."

"You think it's funny? I was mortified and heart broken." She wasn't about to reveal that his betrayal was only part of the reason for her distracted air that evening. Her encounter with Sandor on the terrace had only added to her troubled emotions.

"Heart broken? Come, come, my dear. We both know very well that your heart never had a part in our engagement. You needed my money and I needed a cover for my affair. We were both getting what we wanted."

"Well, I don't need your money any more. I can replace the ring you gave me and then we'll be even."

"Even? Hardly, my dearest. Every one in town quickly knew that you had abandoned me. Me! The most eligible bachelor in Liverpool! Every where I went sad eyes showered me with pity. I was humiliated. How do you intend to pay me back for that?"

He was getting dangerously close and she was nowhere near the pistol yet. She glanced to the doorway to judge whether she should run for it, but in that moment Joffrey lunged for her. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down onto the couch. She fought with all her strength but he was stronger and he soon had her pinned. He was straddling her hips and holding her wrists as he leaned down into her face. "So, you say nothing happened on that ship between you and the captain. The dashing and rugged Captain Clegane?"

"Yes, I swear it," she lied, struggling to get free.

"I don't believe you," he said, his face inches from hers.

"I don't care if you do or not. Let me go!" she cried.

"Not yet," he said quietly. His thin lips pressed against hers and she fought back a wave of revulsion. His wet lips slid over hers as she tried to twist her head away. He raised his head and she gasped for breath.

With glittering eyes and a wicked smile he said, "I think I know of a way that you can pay me back for the humiliation you caused me and we can find out if anything happened on that ship at the same time."

Frightened by his smile, she asked, "What do you mean?"

Holding her wrists with one hand, he reached behind him and began pulling up her skirts. Realizing what he meant she renewed her struggles. She managed to get a hand free and she raked her nails down the side of his face, drawing blood. He put a hand to the scratches and seeing the red stain on his fingers, he drew back his hand and back handed her across the face. She felt her lip split and she tasted blood. She continued to struggle but Joffrey simply reached up, grabbed the bodice of her dress with both hands and pulled, tearing the fabric. She felt a sharp tug on the back of her neck and realized that he had also broken the chain of her aegirine pendant. It tumbled off the sofa and onto the floor. She had stopped wearing corsets and her breasts were now exposed.

He was momentarily entranced by her nakedness and she managed to push him off of her and tumble from the couch. She stood and tried to run but he grabbed her again. He spun her around and bent her over the back of a chair. He pressed one hand firmly into her back, pressing her chest against the piece of furniture, forcing the air out of her lungs. She tried to catch her breath but was unable to. Spots swam in front of her eyes and she began to feel faint but she still tried to struggle. He had managed to pull up her skirts and was tugging on her pantalets when suddenly a dark figure loomed over him and he was pulled off of her. Sansa slowly turned, taking in great gulps of air and watched through dazed eyes as Joffrey seemed to dance across the room. She slipped into darkness as he crashed against the wall.


	18. Chapter 18

Sansa awoke to someone caressing her face and gently saying her name. She opened her eyes and saw Sandor leaning over her, his face a mask of worry, his deep grey eyes tinged with fear. "Oh no, not you too," she groaned. "Not both of you in the same day." She moaned and closed her eyes again. He said something about being right back but she didn't quite understand.

He returned with a bowl of water and a cloth and began dabbing at her lip. She was lying on the couch and she struggled to sit up a bit but that caused the tears that Joffrey had made in her dress to gape open, fully revealing her breasts. Her hands quickly attempted to pull the fabric together but Sandor had already seen too much. He averted his eyes and saw something glittering on the floor. It was her pendant. The one that reminded her of his eyes. He reached down and gently picked it up, holding it in his palm as it glowed in the light. Women before had commented on how his eyes were like pieces of aegirine and he wondered if that was the reason she had it. Laying it on a nearby table, he turned his attention once more to her lip. The familiar sparks of passion burned in his eyes as he attempted to maintain his composure and tend to her.

As she gazed up at him, her heart pounding in her chest, her frayed nerves tingling, her battered senses whirling, she could hardly believe he was here. Once again, having him so close set the butterflies in motion. She hadn't felt them once since leaving the ship. Clutching at her torn dress with one hand, she pressed the other against her stomach in an attempt to quell them. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied weakly. Under her breath she cursed, "Damn butterflies."

"Butterflies?" he asked. He wondered if she hadn't yet fully come around and was hallucinating.

"Where's Joffrey?" she managed to ask.

Sandor gritted his teeth and said "On his way back to England, if he's got any brains at all." He glanced at her dazed eyes and said, "I kicked him out, threw him in his carriage and told the driver to take him back to the harbor."

"Why are you here?"

"Stop talking, you're making your lip bleed again."

"I don't care. What are you doing here?"

Dabbing at her lip again, he looked into her eyes and said, "Apparently rescuing you."

Sansa met his gaze and was drawn in again by those grey eyes. He was so close to her that she knew she wasn't going to be able to resist him.

"I came back to see you," he rasped, staring into her sapphire eyes.

"To see me?" Still slightly dazed and disoriented, she put her hand on his chest. Her touch sent shock waves through him and he sucked in a deep breath.

She could feel the hardness of the muscles there and the beating of his heart. He seemed to radiate heat and she again looked deeply into his eyes.

Quietly he said, "I think your lip is fine now."

"Good, you can kiss me then," she didn't realize she had said the words until a moment later.

Sandor wasn't going to wait for her to change her mind. His lips gently descended onto hers. She kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck, her entire body tingling with delight. He wound his large hands into her hair which had come loose during her struggles. His hair tumbled to his shoulders as her small hands pulled it loose. He sighed as he felt the strands sliding over his cheeks. How he had missed her doing that. The passion in their kiss deepened and he gathered her up in his arms. He climbed to the top of the stairs and she murmured "left, end, left." He turned into her bedroom and lay her down on the bed.

He sat next to her and stroked her hair back. He again kissed her gently and asked, "Shall I leave you alone?"

She had gone this far and she wanted more, she wanted all of him. She could find out later how long he intended to stay. Right now, in this moment, her desire for him overrode all her senses. Her need to have him touch her, to once again take her to the heights of passion, quieted the small voice in the back of her head that was trying to warn her, trying to tell her that this was unwise and was going too fast. She reached up and wound her hands around his neck, kissing him again, and she said, "No, stay."

He got up and walked over to the door. She was at first terrified that he was playing some cruel game with her and that he was going to leave, but he just closed the door and returned to the bed. He discarded his coat, waistcoat and shirt before crawling across the bed to her, pinning her in place with his eyes. A thought about Petyr floated through her mind but then Sandor's lips were on hers again and she forgot everything except him.

Bronn returned home from the smith with the repaired chandelier pieces and as he stood in the front foyer he could hear the floor above him creaking. He cautiously mounted the stairs and turned down the hall towards their bedrooms. He saw that Sansa's door was closed. Wondering what she was doing to cause so much noise, he was about to knock when he heard voices. Sansa's voice and a man's voice. They weren't exactly talking though and it took a moment for him to realize what was happening. With a smirk, he stepped back from the door. The sounds coming from inside her room were unmistakable, he supressed a laugh and quietly tiptoed back down the hallway. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back down the hall, puzzled over who it could be who was in there with her. It must be Petyr he thought to himself. He went into the ballroom and climbed back up the ladder to continue his work on the chandelier.

A while later he heard someone coming down the stairs. Wanting to make his presence known, he began to whistle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone standing in the doorway. He turned and almost fell off the ladder when he saw Sandor standing there wearing only his breeches and a loosely buttoned shirt.

"Hello old friend," he said with a deep raspy voice.

"Hello, Cap'in," he said warily. He had suspected that the relationship between the two of them while on the ship had been physical, and he had, of course, heard the rumors, but thought that they were nothing but rumors. And even if he hadn't approved it had not been his place to say anything. But things had changed and now he was going to say something.

Sandor knew that he and Sansa hadn't been very discreet during their lovemaking and that Bronn surely knew what had happened. Even if he hadn't, his current state of dress would confirm it. "I suppose you know what just happened," he said as Bronn came down the ladder.

Bronn approached him and staring up at him, he said coldly, "Yes, I do."

Noting his tone, he asked, "I take it you don't approve?"

"What I don't approve of is the way you keep hurting her. I'm not exactly sure what happened between you on the ship that hurt her so much but you leaving so quickly had something to do with it. And now you're back, toying with her, probably to be gone again in a few weeks and leaving her behind, broken and hurt once more. I know I can't fight you but I can ask you to please leave her alone. She's trying to get over you and this," he gestured to Sandor's rumpled appearance, "doesn't help." He considered telling him about Petyr but figured that was up to Sansa.

"You know how I feel about her. Doesn't the very fact that you're here prove that?"

"I'm beginning to wonder what your intentions are with her. I thought you wanted me to stay here with her so that you would know she was safe, not so that you could easily find her so you could have some sport while in town."

"I did not come here for that reason. I came because I love her and missed her. I asked her if she wanted me to leave and she said no. She asked me to kiss her and she asked me to stay," he said, wondering why he was defending his actions.

"Don't you know she's vulnerable around you? You confuse her, she doesn't know how you feel about her and she's not even sure herself how she feels about you."

"I plan to stay awhile this time, Bronn. I love her and I plan to prove it."

"Proving it to me is one thing, convincing her is another," he said walking back to his ladder. At the foot he paused and said, "Please, just try and not hurt her."

Sandor turned to leave but then turned back and said, "By the way, Bronn. I stopped at the mercantile to ask directions here and met your fiancée. Congratulations."

Bronn just nodded and began climbing up the ladder.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" Sandor asked. "I saw her ring and commented that the man who gave it to her must be wealthy. That's when she said you gave her the ring and that you are indeed wealthy. How did that happen?"

Pausing on the ladder he said, "You'll have ask the young las about that."

Sansa? he thought to himself as he went back up the stairs. He crawled back into bed with Sansa and wrapped his arms around her. "You were gone awhile," she said. "I heard you talking to Bronn. It didn't sound like a pleasant conversation."

"No, it wasn't. He doesn't approve of me being here like this, with you."

"He doesn't approve? We don't need his approval," she said, offended that Bronn felt he had the right to judge them.

"I don't think its his moral sensibilities I've offended. He's worried about you. He's afraid I'm going to leave again and hurt you."

"And are you? Going to leave again?" she asked in a worried voice, pulling away from him and sitting up.

"Well, eventually I will have to go back. But I intend to stay this time for at least a little while."

"A little while?" she said, her voice rising. "What does that mean? A whole month this time instead of just three weeks?" She got out of bed and pulled a robe around herself. "How could I have been so stupid? I should have known. Get out," she ordered.

"What? Littlebird, what are you talking about?"

"Don't call me that!" she practically screamed at him. "Get out of my house right now!"

"No, Littlebird, I mean Sansa, please let me explain."

"I don't want to hear any of your silver tongued excuses. Now get out."

"Please, just listen to me," he pleaded.

"Now!" she yelled at him. "Bronn taught me how to fire a pistol and if you don't leave, I swear I will go and get one and shoot you right here!"

Knowing that she could not be reasoned with right now, he quickly dressed and left. After he had gone Sansa lay on her bed and wept. How could I have been so stupid? she asked herself again. Why can I not resist him? I was going to be cool and polite when I saw him, but instead I immediately unraveled, she chastised herself. I was under duress she thought, Joffrey had just attacked me and even though Sandor stopped him before he could complete his intentions, it was still traumatic. She had been vulnerable and he had once again taken advantage. She would never forgive him for that.

She suddenly lifted her head and whispered, Petyr! Oh my goodness, Petyr." She lay her head back down as tears continued to slide down her face. She already felt bad enough at her own foolishness but now she had to contend with the guilt of betraying him. First she had flirted and kissed Sandor while engaged to Joffrey and now again with Petyr. She wasn't officially engaged to him, but it was quite clear that he was courting her. If he ever found out, it would be over between them. It wouldn't be the worst thing for her, but to hurt him over this, would be horrible.

Bronn heard her yelling at Sandor and then saw him storm out the door moments later. He ran up the stairs and down the hall to her room. He stood in the doorway and saw her lying on the bed crying. "Las?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

She raised her tear stained face to him. "Is he gone?" she asked.

"Yes, he's gone."

"Good, I never want to see him again." She put her head back down on the bed, tears silently trickling down her cheeks.

"Is there anything I can do?" he said, standing in the doorway feeling helpless.

"No," she said quietly.

He gently closed her door and went back downstairs. He paced through the rooms, cursing himself for being gone this morning. It wouldn't have happened if he had been here. He stopped in the sitting room and looked around. The furniture was out of place and the small table against the wall was knocked over, the figurines that had sat on its surface lay broken on the floor. What had happened while he was gone? he wondered. It looks like there had been a fight. He noticed a broken necklace lying on another table. The one she had made at the goldsmith the day he had placed the order for Margaery's ring. He picked it up and stared at the dark grey stone. It reminded him vaguely of something. Something he couldn't place. He put it back down and after straightening the room and sweeping up the broken porcelain, he returned to his task in the ballroom.

Sandor sat in a tavern cursing himself. He hadn't intended to wind up in bed with her the moment he saw her. But when she stared into his eyes and asked him to stay, he couldn't help himself. How was he supposed to resist her? He shouldn't have kissed her, even though she invited him to. After her struggle with Joffrey he knew she would be extremely vulnerable and he should have resisted. Now, once again she was angry with him. Most likely furious. Would he ever get a chance to set things right with her? Not with Bronn also angry with him. There was no way he was going to be able to get close to her without his help. His first order of business would be to win him back over to his side.

He heard a chuckle and looked up. Joffrey was sitting a few tables away watching him. He had a bottle in his hand and he filled his glass before raising it up in salute. "She's a hell of a woman, isn't she?" he asked, before downing the drink. The scratches from his fight with Sansa were still red and raw on his face and his right eye was beginning to swell from where Sandor had hit him.

Sandor only glared at him before lowering his eyes.

"What did she do? Throw you out?" Joffrey asked, his voice slightly slurred. "Not very nice of her was it?" he continued, not waiting for Sandor to answer. "You rescue her and then to show her appreciation, she kicks you out."

Sandor only glared at him again.

"But then again, she does have a temper doesn't she? Yessir, fiery red hair and a fiery temper to match." He poured himself another shot and quickly downed it. He chuckled again. "I heard that you were able to tame her. For awhile anyway," he leered. "Tell me, how was she? I always wanted to know."

"Shut up, Baratheon," Sandor growled at him.

Joffrey picked up his bottle and staggered over to the other man's table, sitting down heavily. Sandor straightened and sneered at him. It took every ounce of self control he had not to punch him again.

"C'mon, you can tell me. I was her fiancé for heaven's sake. How was she?"

Sandor violently pushed the table away from himself hitting Joffrey in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and tipping the bottle over, spilling whiskey onto the floor. He stood and stalked out of the bar, leaving Joffrey behind, bent over in his chair, gasping for breath.

Sansa peered at her reflection in the mirror with a grimace. She looked terrible. Her eyes were red and puffy and it was going to take her forever to brush out the tangles in her hair. It was two days later and she had finally gotten out of bed. She was to see Petyr that afternoon and she was dreading it. How was she going to face him when all she would be able to think about was Sandor in her bed? She groaned and picking up a hairbrush, she sat at her vanity table and began the task of bringing the mass of red tangles under control. As she slowly worked her way through the knots, she pondered how she was going to handle Petyr's visit. Bronn had gone into town but had promised to be back in time for moral support. This was not going to be easy.

Bronn sat on his horse staring at the Aurora as it bobbed in the harbor. Sandor had invited him to visit, but he didn't know if he wanted to see him. He was still angry at his former employer. Sansa hadn't emerged from her room for two days and when she did her eyes were red and puffy, her face pale. Shamelessly, she had poured out her heart to him, told him everything right from the instant she had met and fallen hopelessly in love with Sandor up to his unexpected arrival earlier that week. She even admitted that she had invited him into her bed. Bronn better understood her confused feelings for the man but that did not excuse the fact that Sandor should have behaved better during his last visit. After pulling Joffrey off of her he should have known that she was in no state to make a clear headed decision about anything, let alone whether or not to allow him back into her heart.

He rode over to the mercantile and tied his horse up there , then walked back down to the harbor. It felt good to once again be walking along the docks, amongst the ships. Climbing aboard the Aurora he greeted his old crewmates before making his way down to Sandor's cabin. He knocked at the door and entered at the summons.

Sandor turned to see Bronn enter and he breathed a sigh of relief. The first hurdle had been cleared. He would have been lost had the young man declined to see him. Offering Bronn the chair, he perched on the edge of his work table. "Thank you for coming to see me," he said. "I appreciate the opportunity to clear the air between us."

Bronn didn't respond, just stared at him with cold eyes.

"I appreciate the fact that you've grown fond of Sansa and feel the need to protect her. That was one of the reasons why I chose you to watch out for her, because I know that you're an honorable man and wouldn't let anything happen to her. However, I want you to know that I had no intention of hurting her the other day." He paused and trying to make Bronn understand he said, "I'm not sure if you fully understand the circumstances..."

"I know the circumstances," he interrupted. "She told me about Baratheon arriving before you and how you threw him out, but that did not give you the right to do what you did." Sandor opened his mouth to speak but Bronn continued. "Yes, she admitted that she asked you to kiss her and that she invited you into her bed. But you knew how distraught she was, how vulnerable. You should have known she would be incapable of making a rational decision. You should have resisted."

"Don't you think I haven't beaten myself up a hundred times over those very things? I hate myself for bringing her any kind of misery but I just can't help myself when I'm around her. Bronn, I love that woman. I've loved her from the moment I first stared into those big blue eyes of hers. And I'm fairly certain that she loves me as well. But for some reason I always seem to make her angry." He paused and then said, "Bronn, help me, please. Help me get her back. If I can win her back I will stay here and never leave."

"You mean you'll marry her?"

"If she'll have me, yes, I'll marry her."

Bronn hesitated, not sure if he should help him. He also once again considered telling him about Petyr. Perhaps he should know that he had some competition. He again decided that it was up to Sansa to tell him. Sandor looked at him with pain in his eyes and Bronn suddenly realized what it was that the aegirine pendant reminded him of. If Sansa carries around something that reminds her of Sandor like that, then she must have feelings for him. And she had admitted on several occasions that she did love him. But she had also said a couple of days ago that she never wanted to see him again. He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Making up his mind, he looked at Sandor and said, "Alright. Against my better judgment, I'll help you. What do you want me to do?"  
Sandor smiled happily and said, "Plead my case. Tell her how I convinced you to stay here to look out for her. That should show her how much I care."

Wincing, Bronn said, "She already knows that. I told her."

"Oh, well then..." He walked over to his desk and took a letter out of a drawer. "Give this to her. I had a talk with her best friend in Liverpool and she wrote this to Sansa on my behalf. Although be careful. This is in response to the letter that you gave me from her. Remember you told her that you sent it on a different ship."

Bronn nodded as he looked at the letter in his hand. "Oh yeah, she may not like that," he said worriedly. "I'll ask her how she's feeling now that a few days have passed. See how she feels about you. I'll come back in a couple of days and tell you what she says, and also how she reacts to the letter."

"Thank you Bronn, I appreciate it."

Bronn was about to leave but turned back and pulled out an envelope from his pocket. "I almost forgot. Here's the money back that you gave me when I first arrived. I thought I should pay you back."

He took the envelope and remembering his fiancée's comment about him being wealthy he had to ask again. "Bronn, how did you do it? Where did your sudden wealth come from?"

He gave Sandor a wolfish smile. "Like I told you before, you'll have to ask Sansa about that."

"But why? Why can't you tell me?"

"Because she would rather I didn't." He turned and went up the stairs.

He arrived back at the farm and found Sansa in the library curled up in front of a fire with an open book in her lap. She wasn't reading it though. She was staring into the flames dancing on the logs in the fireplace. He walked in and sat in a chair next to her. Looking over at him, she gave him small smile.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"Much better thank you," she said, attempting a bigger smile.

"How's the book?" he asked.

"I have no idea," she said looking down at it. "I start reading and the next thing I know, I'm staring into the fire."

"Are you thinking about Cap'in Clegane?" he asked tentatively.

She glanced at him before returning her gaze to the fire. "Yes, partly. And trying to figure out how I'm going to deal with Petyr. He'll be here soon. I don't need to tell him do I?"

"No, you don't. You're not engaged and he hasn't even formally declared his intentions. Do you still feel the same way as you did a few days ago? Do you still hate him, Cap'in Clegane that is?"

"Yes and no." She moaned and said, "Oh, Bronn I don't know. I don't know if I love him or if I hate him. Why is it so hard? You don't have this problem with Margaery, why do I have it with Sandor?"

"Do you think maybe because you're afraid he doesn't love you?"

She stared at him, surprised at his insight. She thought for a moment and replied, "Yes, I think that may be it. I don't know how he feels. Sometimes I think he loves me, but then he'll say or do something so cold and mean that I'll think he can't possibly have any feelings for me at all."

"Maybe you just take what he says the wrong way. Maybe he doesn't mean to be cold or mean."

"Bronn, what are you saying? What's going on?"

"I went to see him today," he admitted. "He says he loves you."

She stared at him a moment and then closed her eyes and tipped her head back to rest on the back of the chair.

"I believe him, Sansa." He reached into his pocket for the letter from Jeyne. "And I think someone else does too." She opened her eyes and looked at him. He handed her the letter.

She stared at the letter, recognizing Jeyne's handwriting. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"He gave it to me." He took a deep breath and said, "Remember the letter you gave me to send to England and I said I sent it on a ship other than the Aurora? Well, I didn't. I gave it to him."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You did what? Bronn, how could you? I poured my heart out in that letter. He probably tore it open and read the whole thing right after you left."

"I don't think so, Sansa. He said he wouldn't, and I've never known Cap'in Clegane to break a promise."

She continued to stare at him, the pain of betrayal shining in her eyes.

"Besides, he did deliver it and this is the response. As you can see, it's still sealed. He hasn't read this one."

She looked down again at the letter in her hands. She slowly opened the envelope and began to read the few pages. She read the letter twice before she slowly folded the pages and returned them to the envelope. "She feels the same way you do. She's also convinced that he loves me and that I should give him another chance." She closed the book in her lap and stood. "Well, he may have managed to fool the two of you but he doesn't fool me. I don't know what his sick game is, but I want no part of it. You go back and tell him that he might as well just sail right on back to England because I never want to see him again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to change into a fresh dress for Petyr's visit."

She stood in front of her wardrobe trying to decide which dress to wear. She was looking at them hanging in front of her but she wasn't seeing them. Both Bronn and Jeyne believe Sandor loves me, she thought. She absent mindedly chose a dark blue velvet that she had just finished and began to unlace her dress. Possibly Bronn could be easily persuaded, but Jenny? She loved a good romance but she was too shrewd and cared about Sansa too much to be easily fooled. She pulled off the gown she was wearing and pulled the blue one over her head. Jeyne was convinced that she was in love with him and most likely so was Bronn. She had said so a number of times. Tightening the laces on her gown, she tried to figure things out but she was so confused, she didn't know what to think. She tied off the laces and sat down at her dressing table, distractedly pulling her hair back and twisting it up on top of her head. I don't have time to think about this now, she thought. I have to figure out how to get through this visit with Petyr.

She went downstairs and into the kitchen and began preparing some refreshments. She was almost through when she heard a knock at the front door. She heard Bronn greeting Petyr and joined him in the sitting room a few minutes later.

He rose to relieve her of the tray. "My dear, are you all right? You look a bit pale," he said with concern in his voice.

"Oh yes, I'm fine. There was an owl outside my window last night and it made the most awful racket for hours. I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep." She was astonished at how easily the lie came to her.

"Yes, they can be a bit of a problem. Try banging a pot with a wooden spoon if it happens again. That will scare him off."

"Thank you, I'll try that. Although, I'll probably frighten Bronn even more," she laughed.

Petyr put the tray down and they both sat. She poured the tea and searched for something to say. All she could think about was Sandor. Petyr broke the silence. "How are the plans coming for your ball? People are beginning to buzz about it. I think it's going to be a great success."

"Things are coming along quite well. I'm very surprised that almost everyone I've invited has said yes. I feel quite sorry for anyone else who is having a party that night."

Petyr chuckled. "No one else is. Any parties that had already been announced were promptly cancelled. Your ball is to be the social event of the season!"

She stared at him in surprise. "Oh my," she whispered. "I didn't realize...oh, I do hope I can live up to everyone's expectations." All thoughts of Sandor were suddenly wiped from her mind. She began to worry that her current plans weren't lavish enough. "I think I need to see Agnes sooner that I had planned."

"Don't worry my dear, I'm sure anything you do will be perfect."

"Thank you Petyr, but I'm not so sure."

"I didn't mean to worry you. Let's speak of other things. How are operations here on your farm going?"

"Well, since it's winter there's not much to do, just wait until spring."

"And you're still determined to plant and harvest your own crops?" he asked.

"Yes, bound and determined," she said cheerfully. "I realize that Bronn and I won't be able to do it all on our own and we'll have to hire some help but I intend to be right in there with them."

He looked at her and chuckled, shaking his head.

"Are you laughing at me, Petyr?" she asked him, her lips curving into a smile.

"No, my sweetling. I'm just trying to imagine Agnes doing the same thing." He began to laugh again. "Oh dear, that would be a sight."

She tried to imagine Agnes doing any kind of physical labor and just couldn't. Suddenly a vision of Sandor helping his crew hoist a new sail after the storm, floated through her mind. Seeing his muscles flexing as he worked with his men, getting the heavy sail into place. She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Petyr's voice. "I'm sorry did you say something?"

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked. "You suddenly seemed to be someplace else."

"I'm sorry, just overtired from last night," she said. She studied Petyr's face. He is an attractive man, but not in the way that Sandor is, she thought. Compared to his dark hair and grey eyes, Petyr looked rather bland. She mentally shook her head, trying to drive the thoughts of Sandor away. All she succeeded in doing though, was bringing back the memories of a few days ago. She looked at Petyr's mouth and wondered if a passionate kiss from him would throw her over the edge of reason. Would she object if he picked her up and began carrying her up the stairs? Somehow she couldn't even picture him doing it.

"Sansa, are you sure you're alright? You're looking at me most peculiarly."

Before she knew what she was doing, she moved over to the couch where Petyr was sitting and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Kiss me, Petyr," she whispered.

He stared at her confused for a moment and then holding her gently by the arms, placed a quick kiss on her lips.

"Not like that," she breathed, leaning closer to him. She clutched the back of his neck and drew his head to hers. She pressed her lips to his and held him to her. She moved her lips over his trying to elicit a reaction from him. When none was forthcoming she pulled back. He just stared at her with shocked eyes. However, the shock quickly changed to passion and he pulled her to him. He kissed her passionately and she fell into his arms, hoping to be swept away. But all she could think of was Sandor. How Sandor's kisses by now would have her mind in a whirl and butterflies the size of eagles flying about her stomach. She parted her lips as the kiss deepened thinking that for certain, that would do it, and she began to feel a tingling in her stomach. The butterflies were small but they were there. She pressed herself against him and felt a small shiver slip down her spine.

Petyr finally broke the kiss and pulled back. His chest was heaving and she could see the passion smoldering in his eyes. "I think we had best stop there, my dear. If we continue I may lose my senses and who knows what might happen."

"Yes, who knows?" she murmured. She was somehow disappointed that he hadn't attempted to go further. That it was only he who was afraid of losing control. She had been painfully aware of everything during the kiss, whereas when she was in Sandor's arms, the roof could have caved in and even if she had noticed, she wouldn't have cared.

The rest of the visit passed uneventfully and when it was time for him to go she saw him to the door. "Thank you my dear, for a lovely visit. I enjoyed it immensely." It was clear he was referring to their kiss and she lowered her eyes, suddenly shocked by her own behavior. He tipped her head back and pressed his lips against hers, holding her to him for a moment.

"Until next time," he whispered, before descending the steps to his carriage.

She closed the door and leaned against it. With a sigh she wandered into the library. She built a small fire and curled up in one of the leather chairs staring into the flames. So Petyr's kiss hadn't swept her off her feet, so what? That wasn't the most important thing in the world, she told herself. If she was going to marry a man, passion wasn't the most important ingredient in the mix. Things like mutual respect, caring and kindness were more crucial to making a marriage work in the long term. And love would come eventually, she was sure of that.

Petyr sat in his carriage on the way back to his house, thankful that it was such a short ride. What had come over her to act so brazenly? He was thoroughly shocked by her behavior but also delighted that he could elicit such passion in her. And she had certainly set his passions aflame. He had been most uncomfortable for the remainder of his visit and was now eager to get up to his apartments and ease his suffering. He alighted from the carriage and as he climbed the front steps he checked his pocket watch. He was just in time.

He passed Agnes on the stairs up and she seemed startled to see him. "Petyr, you weren't expected home so soon, the maids haven't finished with your rooms yet."

"That's quite all right, sister. I won't be but a moment," he called out over his shoulder.

He entered his apartments and went straight for the bedroom and there was the new chamber maid, dusting the mantle over the fireplace. She turned when she heard him enter. She bobbed a quick curtsey, "I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize you were returning so soon. I'll come back later." She went to pass him but he blocked her way.

Petyr looked down at the young woman as she stood before him with her eyes lowered. She had only been there for about a month, but she hadn't escaped his attention. She wasn't very tall, just over five feet with a tumble of reddish blond curls. His eyes swept over her hungrily. "What is your name sweetling?"

She looked up at him surprised that he had asked, "Cecile, sir," she whispered. She saw the lust in his eyes and took a few steps away from him.

"How old are you Cecile?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her.

"Twenty."

"Have you ever worked in a big house before?" He removed his over coat and tossed it over a chair.

"Yes, sir. For a short while." She was clearly nervous now.

"Were there any young men in the house?" He removed his frock coat and tossed it over the chair as well.

"Yes sir, there were." She continued to back away from him.

"So, I assume you know that young men quite often have some sport with the maids of large houses." He unbuttoned his waistcoat and it joined his other garments.

"Yes, sir. I've known of it to happen," she replied warily, eyeing the mound of clothes he had just discarded.

"Has it ever happened to you?" His eyes swept over her body, taking in the fullness of her breasts and her slim waist.

"Thankfully, no, sir."

"Ah, are you a virgin then, Cecile?" He looked into her eyes and saw the fear there. His pulse quickened.

"Yes, sir." She was so distraught she was almost in tears.

He began approaching her. "That's good. I like virgins." He quickly grabbed her by the waist and flung her onto the bed. He rolled her onto her stomach and began pulling up her skirts. The young maid began to cry begging him to stop.

"Shut your mouth, wench," he growled, pushing her face into the blankets.

He tugged down her pantalets and opened his breeches. He raised Cecile's hips into the air and roughly plunged into her. He felt the slight resistance as proof of her now lost virginity and emitted a satisfied groan. He thought of Sansa's kisses and imagined that it was she who was beneath him now. Continuing to thrust into the young woman, he ignored her whimpered cries until the desire that Sansa had stirred in him was satisfied. He pulled out and stood, buttoning his breeches and gave Cecile a hard slap on the behind. "You were telling the truth. You were a virgin." He laughed harshly before telling her to be quick and wash the blood off his coverlet. He left her crying on his bed and whistled as he went back downstairs.


	19. Chapter 19

The next day Bronn took Margaery out for lunch and told her everything. She sat wide eyed throughout it all, her lunch sitting before her untouched. When he had finished she sat silent for several minutes, trying to absorb it all. Finally she said slowly, "You mean, you and Sansa, aren't cousins? You barely even knew each other before you began sharing a house together?" she asked fearfully.

He nodded wordlessly. Seeing the look on her face he said quickly, "I'm so sorry for lying to you. The whole arrangement was very innocent. Absolutely nothing improper happened."

"I believe you Bronn," she said quietly. "Thank you for telling me."

"Now I need your advice, about the rest of it. What should I do? I care a great deal about both of these people and I think they belong together but Sansa's being so stubborn."

"I just don't know Bronn. You can't force a person to fall in love."

"But that's it exactly. She already loves him and he loves her but she won't believe it."

"I still don't know. I don't know Captain Clegane. I only met him briefly when he asked for directions to Aurora. I was startled by his face at first, but he seemed very nice, but it was too short of an encounter to really tell."

"There must be a way..." he said desperately.

"Short of forcing her to spend time with him, I don't see how it can be done."

A sudden thought suddenly struck him. "Have you chosen anyone to stand up with you when we get married?"

"Well, I was thinking of Sansa, partly because I thought she was your cousin, but also because she's been so nice and helpful in getting us together. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking about asking Cap'in Clegane. If I do then they have to spend time together. They at least will have to dance together at the wedding and sit together at the same table during dinner."

"Oh, I don't know. What if they get into a big fight and start yelling at each other? It would ruin everything!"

"They won't get into a fight. Even if they do get mad at each other, or rather if Sansa gets mad at him, they won't yell. They wouldn't dare ruin our day. They would just smile and then yell at each other later." He looked at her hopefully. "What do you say?"

She hesitated, but then saw the pleading look in his eye and relented. "Alright. I'll ask her tomorrow."

"Good, you ask her before I tell her that Cap'in Clegane will be standing up with me so she can't back out." He looked at her with love shining in his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you for understanding and for helping me out on this."

"Well, isn't that what a wife is supposed to do? Help her husband? I'm just getting a head start."

After Bronn saw Margaery back to the store he dropped by the Aurora. He knew Sandor wasn't going to be happy with what he had to tell him, but it was all he had come up with.

Sandor welcomed him in, and offered him a seat. "Well, did you talk to her? What did she say?"

"I tried Cap'in. I really tried. But she's convinced that you don't love her and are playing some sort of game with her. She never wants to see you again."

Sandor slammed his fist on the table and cursed. "Damn. She read Jeyne's letter?"

"Yes, but she thinks you've just managed to fool us into believing you."

Sandor sighed heavily and muttered, "What am I going to do?"

"Well, Margaery and I have a plan, She's going to ask Sansa to stand up with her at our wedding, and I would like it if you would stand up with me. That way, you two will have to spend time together. You'll have to dance together and sit together during dinner."

"When are you getting married?"

"Twelfth night."

"Bronn, that's three weeks away. I was hoping for something sooner."

"Well, we're hosting a Christmas Ball on New Year's Eve. Your welcome to come to that." He hesitated before continuing. "There's something else you should know."

He looked up at his old friend. "There's more?" he asked. From the way that Bronn had said it, he could tell that it wasn't going to be in his favor.

"She's being courted by someone."

Sandor suddenly felt as though he had been hit in the stomach. He felt a surge of jealous rage, but managed to quell it and in a tight voice asked, "Who?"

"His name is Petyr Baelish. He lives on the farm next to us. His sister came over shortly after we moved in and introduced herself and invited us to a big dinner party. That's where Sansa met him."

"What's he like, this Baelish?" he rasped. Anger burning in his eyes.

"He's nice enough. Tall, like you, but not as big. He's bit older. About forty, I think. And it appears that he's quite wealthy. His house is huge."

"Has he asked her to marry him?"

"No, he's been making lots of hints about it, but she doesn't want to get married right now. She's really enjoying her independence and she loves her house. She doesn't want to give up either quite yet and she told him so. She said he seemed to understand."

"Sounds absolutely delightful," he growled.

"She doesn't trust him though," Bronn added.

"She seems to keep getting involved with men who are untrustworthy," he replied grimly. "Why doesn't she trust him?"

"She suspects he's more interested in her attic than in her."

"Her attic?"

"He said privateers used to own the house and it's rumored that there's treasure hidden up there."

"And is there?" he asked.

Looking away he said, "We found some things that seem to confirm the rumors. Muskets, bayonets, fine fabrics, wine, brandy and whiskey, sugar and spices. Those sorts of things."

"But not real treasure?"

Before Bronn could reply, they heard a distant muffled boom. Sandor looked up to the ceiling but when he didn't hear feet running over head or anyone pounding down the stairs to his door he figured it must be nothing to concern him.

"You still have a chance with her, I think. I don't think she's in love with Mr. Baelish so maybe you could still win her back."

Sandor couldn't help but smile. He had been worried that another man would come along that she would fall for and that when he returned it would be too late and she would be lost to him forever. It had almost happened but he had arrived back just in time.

It was then that they heard shouts and the sound of feet running across the deck. Sandor had the door open and was halfway up the stairs when he almost collided with a crew member coming down. "Cap'in, there's a fire!"

Those were the worst words he could have heard. Ever since his brother put his face to the flames, he had't feared much, except fire. He took a breath and raced up the remaining stairs and saw that the two ships next to his were engulfed in flames and that the sails of his own ship were now on fire.

"Cut down those sails!" he shouted.

"We're trying to sir, but the other ship is so close, they're hard to get to."

He watched helplessly as the flames licked at the mast. "Cut us loose, let's get away from that other ship!" he shouted, rushing to the ropes that were tying the ship to the dock. When he reached them, he saw that the crew was a step ahead of him and were already pushing off.

A loud cracking sound filled the air and the burning mast crashed to the deck. Buckets of water were immediately poured onto it but not before it burned a whole in the deck. They made some distance between themselves and the other ship but the Aurora was not out of danger yet. The sails were still burning and another mast was about to fall.

"Cut down those sails!' he ordered again. Large pieces of burning sailcloth were falling to the deck. The men were doing their best to douse the flames quickly but Sandor knew that the damage was not going to be minimal. He rushed to help the men cut the ropes that held the sails as a second mast came crashing down.

Hours later, he was buying his crew a round of ale in the local tavern. They had done a good job saving his ship and he was grateful. "What happened?" he asked them. I heard a muffled boom a few minutes before I heard you lads running and shouting."

"Some'tin exploded on t' ot'er ship, sir," one crew member began.

"We saw the flames come shootin' up from the deck," another said.

"That whole ship war in flames, right off sir. And wit' t'e other ship so close, well, she caught fire straight 'way."

Another continued the story "'tis a good thing we was at the end of the pier, it was. If we 'adn't been able to git away, we woulda' burned up too."

Sandor stood and holding his up his tankard he said "Well, men, thank you for your quick thinking, and quick actions. You saved my beloved Aurora and I am forever in your debt."

"Ah, it was nut'in'."

"It was our duty Cap'in."

"We love 'er as much as you do Cap'in."

Sandor was genuinely touched that the men were so devoted. He knew of crews on ships that wouldn't have cared at all and would have let her burn. It was because he treated them well he knew, but he also felt that it went beyond that. If he could get a bunch of rough and tumble sailors to love and respect him why couldn't he get the same reaction out of one woman?

"Well, she's going to need extensive repairs and won't be going back to Liverpool anytime soon. I'll see what I can do about arranging passage for those of you who wish to go back. If any of you want to stay here and try your luck, you're more than welcome. Just let either me or Simpson know of your plans," he said.

He sat down and turned to Bronn. "Well it looks like I'll be staying for awhile. I guess I'll just have to make myself a nuisance as far as Sansa is concerned."

"Sir, she's given me an out-building on the farm. It's where Margaery and I are going to live after we're married, but it's currently too small for the two of us. You could live there and help me expand it while the ship is in for repairs. That way you'll always be close to her and bound to see her often."

"Will she allow that? It is her farm."

"But that house is mine. She legally signed it over. If I say you can stay there, then there's nothing she can do about it," Bronn said triumphantly.

"You have yourself a deal," he said holding out his hand.

Billy arrived back home, still covered in soot. Sansa saw him come in the door and immediately rushed to him. "Bronn, what happened? Was there a fire?"

"I was visiting Sandor on the Aurora, when a ship a couple of berths over caught fire. It spread quickly and the next thing I knew, we were on fire too. The ship's alright though. She was docked at the end of the pier so the lads were able to untie her and push off out of reach of the burning ships. She lost all of her masts and sails, and there are some big holes burnt in the deck, but she can be fixed," he said.

She hesitated and then asked, "Is everyone alright? Did anyone get hurt?"

Giving her a knowing look he said, "He's fine."

Annoyed that she hadn't been able to fool him she said, "I was referring to everyone on board. I did make friends with them all, remember?"

"They're all fine too," he said. "It was amazing to see Sansa. The way everyone worked so hard to save her. Those men really love that ship and it's all because of Sandor. It's rare to see a crew so devoted to their captain. It really says a lot about a man who can command that kind of loyalty."

"Save your praise of him. I don't want to hear it," she said walking away from him.

He sighed as he walked upstairs thinking, it had been worth a try. He got cleaned up and changed his clothes and found her once again in the library. "By the way, Margaery wants to see you tomorrow. Something about the wedding."

"Oh? I'll go see her at the mercantile then. Let me know if you want me to pick anything up for you."

"Do you want me to take you in the carriage?"

"No, that's alright. I'll ride Lady. Give her a trip to town."

The next morning Sansa pulled the split riding skirt out of her wardrobe. She had made it shortly after Bronn had suggested she learn how to ride astride. She had tried it and after some practice had found it easier. Learning to shift her balance had been easy enough to get used to, the sensation of the powerful animal between her thighs was another. She pulled on the split skirt and looked in the mirror. The legs of the garment were wide enough so that you couldn't readily notice that it wasn't a proper skirt. She hesitated before leaving her room. Riding about the farm was one thing, going into town astride was another. She had never done that before and tongues were bound to wag. Well, she didn't care. She tossed her head and pulling on a warm hooded riding jacket she walked downstairs.

Out in the stable she resolutely took a regular saddle off the wall and put it on her horse. Lady snorted and tossed her mane. She hadn't given her beloved horse a good run for awhile and she needed it. She led her out of the stables and closed the large doors behind her. Putting her foot in the stirrup she swung her leg over the back of the horse before cantering down the long drive to the road, holding Lady in check. The horse wanted to run but Sansa wanted her to warm up a bit first. Soon enough, though, they were flying down the road, the pins fell out of her hair and it streamed out behind her like a long flame. The feeling was exhilarating. She wished she had learned how to ride like this a long time ago. As they neared the town a mixture of rain and snow began to fall. Worried that the streets would be slippery she pulled on the reins, slowing down to a lady-like trot.

The wind began to pick up and the wet snow quickly became sleet. The population of Williamsburg was too busy trying to find shelter to notice the way she was riding. She found a stable where she could tie up Lady and pulled up the hood of her riding coat as she made her way to the mercantile.

The bell over the door jangled and Margaery looked up. A smile spread across her face when she saw Sansa. She came out from behind the counter and embraced her. "How are you? Bronn told me you had an unpleasant visit from your former fiancé. Are you alright?" She didn't tell Sansa that she also knew all about Sandor's visit as well.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I was quite shaken but I'm alright."

"I'm so glad," she said with a smile.

"Bronn said there was something you wanted to ask me? Something about the wedding?"

"Yes. Let's go in the back," she said indicating the curtain that hung behind the front counter. She called to her grandmother to let her know she would be away from the counter for a few minutes and they ducked behind it.

Sansa had never been to the back of the store before. They entered a small office and sat down. Margaery leaned towards Sansa and said, "First of all I want to thank you. You have been so wonderful to both Bronn and I and had a great deal to do with us getting together. And all the work you've done in helping me to plan and arrange the wedding, well, quite frankly, I don't think I could have done it all without you. You seem to know how everything is to be done."

Quietly she said, "When I left England my own wedding was to have been in a matter of days, so I've done all this before."

Just as quietly, Margaery replied, "Oh yes, of course." Brightening she continued, "Well, what I really wanted to ask you is this. Would you stand up with me when we get married?"

Sansa's eyes grew wide. She had not expected this. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather ask someone else? A close girlfriend?"

"No Sansa. I want someone who has really meant something to my relationship with Bronn and that someone is you. Please say yes."

Smiling broadly she said, "Yes. Yes, Margaery I would be honored to stand up with you."

She jumped up and again embraced Sansa. "Thank you. This means so much to me."

"Has Bronn chosen someone to stand with him?"

"I don't think so. You'd have to ask him."

She had a strong feeling it was going to be Sandor. He had made a few friends in town but they didn't mean as much to him as Sandor did. 

"I hate to run, but the weather is getting bad and I'd like to get back home," she said as they emerged from behind the curtain. They could see and hear the freezing rain as it lashed the windows of the store.

"Maybe you should stay here and wait it out," Margaery said, looking out as people ducked under the awnings and into buildings to avoid the icy rain.

Sansa pulled up the hood on her coat and said, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

She stepped out of the store into the wind and rain and began to make her way back to where she head tied up Lady. She was beginning to regret not coming in the carriage as she neared the stables. A sudden gust of wind blew at her, causing her hood to fly back. It quickly changed direction and came back at her from behind causing her loose hair to fly into her face. She became disoriented and was trying to keep the hair out her face as she slipped along the icy street. She couldn't see where she was going and stepped into a deep rut in the road. Her ankle turned and she began to fall. She struggled to maintain her balance by shifting her weight but in doing so she landed on her newly injured ankle. She let out a howl of pain and put out her hands to break her fall. Just before she hit the street, a strong arm grabbed her about the waist and pulled her into the air. She had a sudden flash of almost falling in the streets of Liverpool and instinctively knew that it was Sandor coming to her aid yet again. He had seen her turn her ankle and so instead of just steadying her, he scooped her up in his arms.

She tossed her wet hair back out of her face and glared up at him.

"Why Miss Stark, how nice to see you again," he said pleasantly.

She hissed at him through clenched teeth, "Put me down!"

Ignoring her request he began carrying her through the now empty streets. Maintaining his friendly, casual tone he said to her, "It seems that you really should avoid walking in storms on icy streets. This is, I believe, the third time I have had to come to your assistance in such a situation. I should say you're pushing your luck. I may not happen to be around the next time and you could really hurt yourself."

In a most unladylike display she kicked her legs and struggled to be free of his arms, but her efforts appeared to go unnoticed by him. "Let me go! Put me down!" she demanded.

He carried her to the stables where he had seen her earlier tying up her horse. He stood by Lady's side and asked "Can you ride with your ankle like that?"

Still twisting in his arms she spat, "That is none of your concern. Put me down and leave me alone."

He stared into her eyes, letting the love he felt for her show in his own. He gently set her down but did not release his arm about her waist. "Can you stand on it?" he gently asked.

She tried her weight on it and stumbled, letting out a small cry of pain. He gripped her tighter and held her upright. She refused to look at him and turned her head away.

The weak light of the stables glinted off something around her neck. His fingers reached out for the delicate chain and he gently pulled it out of her bodice. She tried to stop him but it was too late and soon the aegirine stone was resting in his palm. It mirrored his eyes and he looked down at her. She turned her head and looked away again. "Why do you wear this?" he asked, so quiet his deep voice cracked.

She snatched it out of his hand and held it tightly in her fist. "That is none of your business," she said.

He put his finger under her chin, tipping her head back, forcing her to look at him. "I think I know why," he said staring into her eyes, gently tracing a finger along her brow and down her temple to her cheek. "Perhaps I should get a sapphire to wear about my neck and keep close to my heart."

"Your eyes have nothing to do with it," she said in an unsteady voice. "I didn't even notice until just now that they resemble the stone," she lied unconvincingly. His touch on her face had sent shivers up and down her spine and she was having trouble keeping her breathing steady. She struggled to come up with a reason for wearing the pendant, desperately wishing he would release her and step away. Having him so close put her mind in a whirl and she found it difficult to think of anything other than winding her arms about his neck and wanting to feel his lips press against hers.

"I found it in my attic and it just reminds me of my home, of which I am very proud," she stated, but without much conviction. She lowered her eyes but her gaze fell upon his lips and knowing what pleasures lay there, she was unable to tear her gaze away. Her own lips parted and her shaky breaths escaped them. He saw her eyes on his mouth and he licked his lips and parted them suggestively. Without realizing it she relaxed in his arms and drew closer to him. He lowered his head to hers until their lips were less than inch apart. She could feel his breath on her cheek and before she knew it she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his. He gripped her tightly and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her heart rejoiced but warning bells rang in her head as the intensity of their kiss deepened.

Ignoring the warnings she melted against him, her lips parting, welcoming his probing tongue into her mouth. Her senses were spinning wildly as her fingers tickled the fine hairs at the back of his neck, and relished the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, his large hands caressing her back, rising up and getting tangled in her loose hair. He moved closer to her, crushing her heaving breasts against his chest, pressing his thighs against hers, not once relenting in the deepening kiss that was assaulting her senses.

Sansa felt the strength of his warm body against hers and welcomed it as she recklessly gave in to the intoxicating feelings flooding her veins. A moan full of pleasure purred in her throat as his palm covered her breast, arousing the nipple beneath the fabric. Her hips surged against him as he gently squeezed her breast, his large fingers seeking out and gently pinching the erect nub. She could scarcely breath as the tumult of sensations bombarded her, fogging her mind, the only thought surfacing was how desperately she wanted him. Here in this stable, at this moment. At last they parted and looking deeply into her eyes, he saw the raw passion touched by reluctance mingling in the sapphire depths.

He whispered to her, "Can't you see we belong together, Littlebird? Let me love you, I know I can make you happy," he pleaded with her.

Suddenly angry that she had completely succumbed to him yet again, she pushed out of his embrace, hobbling on her good ankle. "Happy?" she asked incredulously. "You think you can make me happy? All you've ever done is cause me pain!" She tossed her long mane of hair back over her shoulder and said imperiously, "It doesn't matter anyway. I belong to another."

"Ah yes, your courtship with Mr. Petyr Baelish. Bronn told me all about it."

A bit deflated that he already knew, she continued, "Then you should know to leave me alone. Your advances are not welcome."

He stepped towards her and spoke in a low voice. "My advances? I may be mistaken but was it not you who just kissed me?" He chuckled at her angry expression. "Whether my advances are welcome or not, you have trouble resisting them, don't you?"

"When I was engaged to Joffrey you said that if I had mentioned my engagement to you that afternoon in your carriage you would have halted your advances. Well, I'm telling you now that I am again spoken for, so please, for once, at least pretend to be a gentleman and leave me be."

He again chuckled and said, "But Bronn said that you are, indeed, not yet spoken for. And that you have no intention of being so for some time. That you're having too much fun enjoying your independence to be tied down to someone else."

Making a mental note to remind Bronn not to discuss her romantic life with Sandor, she said, "Yes, that is true, but Petyr understands that and is willing to wait until I'm ready. You don't seem to have that patience."

"I don't need patience. Don't you understand, Littlebird? I would never want you to feel as though I own you, or inhibit your freedom. I want to set you free. You wouldn't have to give up your house or your independence." He stepped closer to her and taking her chin in his hand he made her look at him. "I only want to love you."

She stared into his eyes, not knowing if she should believe him. Sandor was offering what she truly desired. But she didn't know if she could trust him. Would he still feel this way tomorrow or the day after? What if she said yes and they married and he changed his mind? From her experiences with him, he seemed to change from day to day. Removing his hand and turning her head, she said quietly, "I don't know, Sandor, I just don't know."

She limped over to her horse and stood beside her, wondering how she was going to get into the saddle with an injured ankle. She was looking around for something to climb up on when Sandor was suddenly beside her. He quickly grabbed her about the waist once again and before she had a chance to struggle or say anything he had placed her upon the saddle. He then turned on his heel and quickly walked out of the stables and into the cold rain. She stared at his retreating figure and suddenly she wanted to cry. She gave herself a shake and pulling up her hood, gave Lady a nudge and headed home.

She limped into the house and up the stairs to her room. She pulled off her wet clothes and changed out of her riding skirt before heading back downstairs to make herself a pot of tea. Bronn came in while she was limping about the kitchen.

"What's wrong, las? Why are you limping? Are you hurt?"

Smiling at his concern, she dismissed his worries. "I turned my ankle after visiting with Margaery. It's nothing. I'll be fine." She did not mention that Sandor had come to her assistance. "Can you help me carry this into the library?" she asked him, indicating the tea tray.

"Certainly. It seems to be turning into your favorite room," he said walking slowly to keep up with her slower pace.

"It's very cozy and it reminds me of the library in my old house in Liverpool." She wondered what had happened to the house and its contents. Most likely sold at auction to pay her remaining debts. "That had been my father's favorite room." She eased herself down in a chair as Bronn built a fire. He brought her a stool to put her foot up on and then sat down himself.

She looked at him fondly. "What am I going to do without you, after you're gone?" she asked.

"So did Margaery ask you?" he said, changing the subject.

"Yes, she did." She looked at him and said, "You knew what she was going to ask, didn't you?"

He nodded and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said yes. She asked so nicely, there was no way I could refuse." She tried to keep her voice neutral as she asked, "Have you asked anyone to stand up with you?"

"Yes, I asked Sandor," he replied.

"And what did he say?" she asked, still attempting to sound disinterested.

"He said he would be delighted."

"Oh, so he's planning on staying that long?" she said surprised.

"Well, with the damage that the Aurora sustained during the fire, he'll be here for quite some time. Three months at least."

She stared into the fire. "Is that the only reason he's staying?" she asked softly.

"He was meaning to stay even before the fire." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I said he could stay in the out-building if he helps me to build onto it," he said nervously, afraid of what her reaction would be.

She stared at him. "In the out-building? But that's so close. Please, Bronn, no. You know how I feel about him, I can't have him so nearby."

"It'll be fine Sansa. You'll never see him. He promises to stay out of your way." He saw how genuinely upset she was and said gently, "Give it a try for a couple of weeks. If it's not alright, then I'll ask him to move into a place in town."

Still unsure but not wanting to be unreasonable she relented. "Alright. I'll give it a try."

"Thank you, las. You won't regret it."

She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the chair. That would have to wait to be seen, she thought.

That night, she lay in bed fingering the aegirine pendant. She held it up to the moonlight streaming in through her window. It was so much like his eyes. She dropped the stone to her breast and closed her eyes. She tried to sleep but she knew it be a long time before it would come.

The crew of the Aurora spent the next few days clearing out their belongings and either finding lodgings in town or work on returning ships. The other two ships that had caught fire were beyond repair but the Aurora was salvageable. Sandor arranged to have the ship towed to the ship yard so that she could be repaired. He bought himself a horse, so after he cleared out his cabin, he packed his bags onto the horse and rode out to the farm.

Sansa rode out to the out-building with Bronn to help him clean it up and prepare it for Sandor to move into. "You really don't need to help me with this. I'm quite capable of cleaning a small house." He said.

With a laugh, Sansa replied, "I've seen you clean Bronn and, please forgive me, but you are most certainly not capable. I may dislike Sandor but that doesn't mean that he should live in a filthy house. Not on my farm anyway."

They had also brought the cart loaded down with spare furniture to furnish the house. They walked inside and rolling up their sleeves they got down to work. It wasn't nearly as dirty as the main house and they were finished within a couple of hours. They unloaded the cart into the front room and while Sansa arranged the furniture Bronn went back for a second load.

Sandor approached Bronn on his way to the house and tipped his hat to him in greeting. Bronn stopped the cart and motioned Sandor over. "She's at your new house, alone," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the out-building. "She's still angry so go easy with her." With a wink he said, "I'll take my time coming back."

"I appreciate the warning."

Sansa heard a horse approach and thought, that was fast. How did Bronn get back here with the second load so quickly? She heard steps on the front stairs and she turned towards the front door. Seeing the tall silhouette in the doorway, the smile vanished from her face. The memory of their kiss from a few days earlier flashed through her mind and her breath caught in her throat. She breathed deeply trying to ignore the butterflies that his presence never failed to stir up. "Please excuse me, I didn't realize you would be moving in today," she said in what she hoped was a chilly voice.

"Thank you for cleaning it up and arranging for furniture. It would have been rather uncomfortable sleeping on the floor," he replied walking in and closing the door behind him.

"Where you sleep is of no concern to me," she replied as she walked past him to leave.

He stopped her and turning her to him he said, "Sansa, can't we please call a truce? I'm going to be close by and we're bound to run into each other now and then. And I understand we'll both be at the wedding, so can we at least try and be civil with each other?"

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, trying to determine if he was being sincere or not. She was determined to no longer fall for his tricks, but what he said this time seemed reasonable so she agreed. With a pleasant smile she said, "Certainly Mr. Clegane. How are you this afternoon? I hope you will find your new lodgings to be comfortable."

He looked around and said, "Well, they're certainly more roomy than my cabin on the ship, aren't they?"

Annoyed that he had referred to the time they had spent together on the ship she ignored his comment. "There was quite a bit of spare furniture and so on in my attic, enough so that you should be fully equipped. However, if you find that you require anything else, please let me know and I will endeavor to find it for you."

He approached her and said quietly, "There is one thing missing. Something that I would like a great deal."

She refused to let him know that he had unsettled her so quickly and she replied with a calmness she did not feel. "And what would that be, Mr. Clegane?"

He held his hand to her cheek and said quietly, "You. I need you, Littlebird."

Sparks radiated out from where his hand touched her and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She gently removed his hand and whispered, "I'm sorry, but as I told you a few days ago, I'm not available."

She once again moved to walk past him, but he touched her arm and gently pulled her to him. "Please give me one more chance. Just one."

She looked into his eyes and saw the love and tenderness there. Could she trust him? Should she give him one more chance? "I'm sorry, but the answer is no. I can't go through that again," she said avoiding his gaze.

"It will be better this time. I promise."

She remembered what Bronn had said about how he never broke a promise. He had made promises to her before too, and had kept them all. She raised her eyes and stared into his. Could she trust him? A part of her was crying out for him. Crying out for his love, for his touch, for what he could give her. Yet another part of her was crying out a warning, telling her to beware, to not trust him. It reminded her of the times he had hurt her, had taken advantage of her, had treated her in such a callous fashion.

He could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. They suddenly cleared and he could see that he had lost. The pain of it tore through him. She again made to move past him and he stopped her again.

Desperately he said, "Littlebird, I know you love me. You can't deny that. I can see it in your eyes and I've felt in your kisses. Every time your lips have touched mine it's been there. Please, listen to your heart, ignore your head and listen to your heart."

She tried to pull out of his grip. "No," she denied, fighting back sudden tears.

"You're denying that you love me?" he asked, trying to look into her eyes.

Still trying to free herself, she avoided his gaze and said, "Yes, I'm denying it. I don't love you."

"Then why can't you resist me? I can see the passion burning in your eyes right now," he was bluffing but he hoped that he was right.

She looked up at him, proving him right. "Passion and love are two very different things, Sandor."

"But passion comes from love. This isn't lust, this is love on fire. That's what passion is, that's why it burns within us," he said in a low voice.

She stared into his eyes and saw passion. But could she see love behind it? She wasn't sure. "Under normal circumstances I can most certainly resist you. For some reason you have quite frequently found me in a most vulnerable state. And you have taken advantage every time," she accused.

"Are you in a vulnerable state right now, Miss Stark?" he asked with a mocking tone.

"No, I am not. I will not succumb to your coarse charms so easily today," she said defiantly, staring him straight in the eye.

"Then kiss me. Try and resist. Kiss me and then calmly walk away," he dared her.

She felt a cold stab of fear in her stomach. Could she do it? Could she just kiss him and calmly walk away? She had to try. She couldn't admit to him that she was afraid she couldn't do it.

She moved closer to him and whispered, "You better remember this because it is the last time I will ever kiss you."

She stood on her toes and placed a trembling kiss on Sandor's lips. Before she could pull away, his arms wrapped around her and held her close. With his lips still pressed against hers he whispered, "You're not going to get away with an innocent peck like that."

His lips moved seductively over hers in an attempt to break down her resistance, claiming her with his mouth as his lips parted and his tongue sought entry to her mouth. Her head was swimming and she lost all control of rational thought. Unable to resist, she weakened in his arms and parted her lips in response. She gripped the back of his neck and held his head to her, winding her hands into his hair, loosening it from the confines of the ribbon holding it back.

How could she possibly deny that she loved him, that she could live without him? Her world had been dull and lifeless during the long months he had been gone and she hadn't even realized it. The sudden color and clarity his presence brought was so bright she could barely see, and in this moment barely think.

His hands slid down her sides, his thumbs pressing heavily against the sides of her breasts as they passed. He gripped her hips and pulled her against him, their bodies pressed tightly together before his hands slid around her, gripping her behind, keeping her pressed to him. Her head tipped back, a low moan passing her parted lips as his lips and tongue sought her throat. With her mind veering towards insanity he slowly drew his tongue down her neck, leaving licks of fire in its wake.

He felt her trembling against him, and stumbled her backwards to the couch that was sitting sideways in the middle of the room. They tumbled onto it, him on top of her. Before she could gain her senses, his lips captured hers again, obliterating everything but him and her need for him, his lips, his body, his hands on her. His lips again strayed downwards, over her neck, across her shoulders to her heaving breasts. Another moan of pure desire slipped from her as his mouth danced across the ivory mounds. His hands tugged at her gown until a dark pink nipple appeared only to quickly disappear into his mouth. Her back arched up and she gasped loudly as he sucked hungrily on the sensitive mound. His other hand busily pulled on the other side and was rewarded with another nipple, that was quickly captured by his large hands.

Sansa thought she was going to lose her mind, the sensations roaring through her were so intense. She completely forgot that she was supposed to be showing him that she wouldn't react to his kiss, that she was angry with him, that she didn't trust him. With nerves stretched taught with need, aflame with desire, all she could think about was him, the way he was kissing her, touching her, making her feel, making her burn.

Sandor's heart was singing. There was no way she could react like this to him, give in so easily if she didn't feel something for him. His speech about passion being the same as love hadn't been entirely true in a general sense, but it certainly was for him and he was sure for her as well. He knew she loved him, he just needed to convince her of the fact and this kiss certainly was a good start.

A slender ivory calf rose in the air, the voluminous skirts falling away from it as she wound her leg around him. He released her nipple and slid his palm over her silky skin, over her knee to her thigh, squeezing gently. Raising his head from her heaving breasts, he stared deeply into her eyes, the sapphire blue glazed with passion. "Say it Littlebird, say you love me," he whispered to her.

His words snapped her back to reality. She was suddenly aware that they were lying on the couch and that she had a leg wantonly wrapped about him. And after she had promised herself that she would not find herself in this position ever again. She pushed at his chest and twisted her head, refusing to meet his intense gaze. "No, I don't love you," she gasped. She chanced a glance at him and saw the pain in his eyes and hated herself in that moment, but she did what she had to do to protect herself.

She pushed him off of herself and stood up quickly, hastily pulling her gown's neckline back in place. Moving to leave he grabbed her arm, pulling her back into his embrace as he stood. "You little liar," he said with a chuckle before pressing his lips against hers again.

Her mind reeled but she fought to remain in control. She again pushed out of his embrace and ran for the door, her lips burning from his kiss. It took every ounce of self control to mount Lady and ride away, when all she wanted to do was run back inside and drag him into the bedroom.

Sansa rode at a full gallop back to the house and arrived just as Bronn was preparing to leave with another load of furniture. "You're not going to help me?" he asked as she rode up.

She was breathing heavily and her hair had come loose of its pins. "He's there, he can help you." She dismounted and stalked into the stable, pulling Lady behind her.

Bronn arrived at his future home to find Sandor arranging the furniture. "I just saw Sansa. She was coming home awfully fast," he said suggestively, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, she was in a bit of a hurry when she left," he replied with a chuckle. She had all but admitted that she loved him and his heart was flying. He knew it, now he just had to make her acknowledge it.

Sansa ran into the house and up the two flights of stairs to the attic. She rummaged around in the crates, finally locating the object of her search. She staggered down the hallway to her sewing room, closed the door and sat down. She hesitated momentarily, staring down at the object in her hand. Her heart was still racing and her mind was spinning. She uncorked the bottle and tipped it back, pulling a long swallow of brandy into her mouth. She had never drank straight liquor before and gasped as the hot liquid slid down her throat. It warmed her belly and after a few more mouthfuls she felt herself relax.

She sighed deeply and tried to think through what had just happened. It was true, she couldn't resist him, she admitted. But did that mean that she loved him? According to him it did. But he was wrong, all he aroused in her was lustful desire and mistrust. Her Christmas Ball was in a little over two weeks and she knew that he would be there. But she would be with Petyr and he would be just another guest. She would be cool and polite and that was all. She just had to ensure that she didn't dance with him. Although in a room full of people and with Petyr there she should be fine, she reminded herself. Innocent and alone with him on his ship had been an entirely different situation. Taking another sip of brandy she thought, maybe I will dance with him. Dance with him, politely thank him and walk away. "I can do that," she said aloud. She raised the bottle in a silent toast to herself and took another long swallow.


	20. Chapter 20

Sansa heard muffled voices and tried to open her eyes, but it felt like grains of sand were scraping beneath her lids. She was laying on something hard but couldn't remember where she was. A shooting pain seared through her skull when she raised her head. Moaning, she put her head back down and tried opening her eyes again. Looking around she realized that she was in her sewing room and lying on her table. Recalling the brandy she had consumed, she tentatively raised her head again and with another groan held onto it as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the table. The half empty bottle sat on the floor and she looked at it with surprise. Had she drunk that much of it? No wonder she felt like this. She once again heard voices and was trying to figure out if they were inside her head or outside the door. She received her answer when the door to the room opened and Bronn walked in.

"I thought I heard a noise in here," he said. "What are you doing on the table?"

"Bronn," she whispered, "could you please stop shouting." She winced as she spoke, her own words too loud in her head.

"Are you alright?" he said approaching her.

"No, I seem to have a bit of a headache," she replied still wincing from the pain of her hangover.

He could smell the brandy on her and stepped back in surprise. "Have you been drinking, las?"

"I just had a sip or two," she lied.

He took another step back and his foot hit something on the floor and knocked it over. Looking down he saw the half empty bottle rolling on the floor and picked it up. "Just a sip or two you say?" he said holding up the bottle. "How big were those sips?"

"Please, Bronn. Stop shouting," she repeated still holding her head.

"I'm not shouting," he whispered to her. "Let me help you to bed," he said taking her arm.

She gingerly got off the table and said weakly, "Why is there a train running through my head?"

"They tend to make trips there when one has had too much to drink," he said with a soft laugh. He had experienced those trains himself on many occasions.

"Bloody nuisance," she muttered. "They should close the tracks."

She heard a chuckle and looked up to the doorway. Sandor stood there looking at her with an amused expression. He shifted into two and she blinked and the images blended back into one and but then split back into two. As she staggered towards the door she hissed at him, "Get out of my way, both of you."

That only caused him to laugh loudly and she winced at the harshness of the sound. She shot him a withering look that silenced him. As she walked down the hallway to the hidden staircase she asked Bronn, "What is that man doing in my attic? I thought we had agreed not to tell anyone how to get up here."

"But I thought it would be alright to show Sandor. And besides he said that you mentioned that the furnishings in his house are from your attic so he knew we could get up here."

"Petyr knows that we can get up here too, and we haven't show him the entrance."

"Aye, las, but you don't trust Petyr," he reminded her.

She shot Sandor a look and replied "And you think I trust him?"

"I think your questions about trusting Sandor are different than those concerning Mr. Baelish," he said quietly.

She sighed heavily and muttered, "Just help me to my room," as she moved towards the doorway to the hidden stairs.

When she was in bed with a cold compress on her head Bronn returned to the attic. He found Sandor still in the sewing room, inspecting the dresses that she was working on. He was imagining how lovely she was going to look in them. Especially the one that he suspected was for the ball. She was going to be stunning.

He looked up as Bronn entered. "Will she survive?" he asked with a smile.

Bronn bent down and picked up the half empty brandy bottle. "I think so," he said returning Sandor's smile and walking into the attic. "I take it things didn't go well this afternoon?"

"I think they went very well, indeed. She just didn't like the outcome." Trying to sound casual, he asked, "That aegirine pendant that she wears, she said she found it up here. Where was it?"

"You'll have to ask her about that."

"Why do you keep saying that? I ask you about your new-found wealth and you say I have to ask her. I ask about a semi-precious stone and I have to ask her about that as well. And you just said that there are rumors that there is a hidden treasure up here. Did you find it? Is that where your wealth is from?"

Bronn swore silently to himself. He never was good at lying or keeping secrets. Sandor was the most honest man he had ever met and he knew he could trust him with this.

Sandor thought perhaps he had offended Bronn and that he was going to walk out of the attic, but he stopped when he approached the doorway and reached up to the top of the frame. He heard a soft click behind him and when he turned he was astonished to see that a doorway had opened on the side wall.

"Don't tell the young las, because she would have my hide, but take a look in there."

Sandor cautiously entered the small room and peered around. Bronn entered behind him and holding their lanterns high, he opened one of the chests. He pulled out a bag of gold coins and opened it so that Sandor could see the contents. Sandor reached inside and pulled out one of the coins and held it to the light. "It looks like a coin but it's unstamped," he said with wonder.

"Yes, that's why we're able to keep it. There's no way to tell who it originally belonged to," Bronn said with a smile. "These trunks are full of them." Indicating the others, he continued, "Those are full of silver." He then pointed to a smaller one. "That one has silver too and jewels. That's where I got the diamond for Margaery's ring, and where Sansa found her pendant." He was silent for a moment as Sandor looked around in wonder. "She said that since she wouldn't have any of this without me that she would split it with me. That's why I was able to ask Margaery to marry me. Otherwise it would have taken me a long time to be established enough. I owe Sansa a great deal."

They exited the room and Sandor said, "So, not only are you wealthy but so is Sansa."

"Yes, even more than me. She's keeping most of it, of course. She's real happy about it because it gives her security. I think she really likes the feeling of independence."

Sandor recalled what she had told him about having to marry Joffrey because her father had gambled away all their money. Yes, she would cherish this more than most would.

"Well, I should get out of here. I don't want to be around when she gets up. She's most likely still mad at me, so I'll be off." He headed towards the hidden staircase and the two men made their way down. As they exited he glanced at Sansa's closed bedroom door for a moment before turning and heading for the second set of stairs. At the front door, he said, "Thanks for showing me around Bronn."

He was riding back to his house, pondering why she was drunk and concluded that it had to be because of what happened between them earlier. The fact that it had unsettled her so much that she had sought out a drink was indeed a good thing.

Several days passed without them crossing paths. Bronn was over at Sandor's and she was upstairs in her sewing room, when she heard a carriage approach. She looked out the window and recognized it as one belonging to the Baelish's. She headed for the stairs searching her mind. She was certain that they didn't have a date today. She greeted him at the door.

"Hello, Petyr. Won't you please come in."

He entered and removing his hat and coat he returned her greeting. "Good morning Sansa."

"What brings you by?" she asked, showing him into the sitting room.

He sat on the couch and said, "Well, it's actually Agnes who insisted I come."

"Agnes? Why didn't she come herself? I would have been happy to see her," she said.

"She would never admit that she was so curious. But she was pestering me so much that I came just to silence her," he said, a smile teasing at his lips.

"What about?" she asked, baffled as to what Agnes could be so intrigued about.

"There is a rumor that a man is living in your out-building. A mysterious man. Agnes is going out of her head about it," he said with a laugh. "If something happens in this area and she doesn't know all the details, it drives her mad."

"And you in the process," she added with a smile.

"Yes, so could you please save my sanity and tell me who this man is, if indeed he exists."

"Oh yes, he exists alright. His name is Sandor Clegane, he's the Captain of the Aurora. The ship that this farm is named after. It was involved in the harbor fire a little over a week ago and sustained heavy damages. It's at the ship yard right now awaiting repairs and in the meantime, he is living in the out-building."

"And you don't mind having this sea-captain living out there?"

"Mr. Clegane is a very respectable man. He's not your typical sea-captain. He's quite the gentleman," she said, surprising herself with her praise of him.

"Are you're friends with him as well?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. I was acquainted with him in Liverpool through Bronn," she lied, making the story up as she went along. She suddenly heard two horses outside and prayed that it wasn't Bronn and Sandor. She did not want to introduce the two men.

She looked up as the door opened and realized that her prayers had gone unanswered. The two men entered and Bronn poked his head in the sitting room. "Hello Mr. Baelish. I thought that was your carriage outside."

Petyr stood to greet the younger man and said, "My sister has been hearing rumors about a man living on the property and was driving me to distraction about it so I thought I would come out and see what it was all about."

"Well, you're in luck. Here's the man himself," he said indicating Sandor.

Bronn made the introductions. "Mr. Petyr Baelish may I present Captain Sandor Clegane. Captain Clegane, Mr. Baelish."

Sansa saw Petyr's dark eyes go right to Sandor's burns, and she felt something defensive inside her take over. Like she wanted to protect him from the first impressions of others, but she did not say anything. The two men shook hands, each taking the other's measure."I think I'll go make us some tea," she said, suddenly desperate to escape the room.

She practically ran to the kitchen and stood gripping the counter trying to calm her breathing. She couldn't imagine a more awkward situation. All she needed was for Joffrey to walk in to make it complete. With trembling hands she put on a kettle and began to look for something to serve with the tea.

Back in the sitting room, Sandor was trying to be civil to Petyr but all he could think of was this man embracing and kissing Sansa. Jealousy swirled in his chest as he attempted to maintain a pleasant conversation.

Sansa returned with tea just as Petyr announced that he had to be on his way. She silently released a sigh of relief. "Would you please see me to the door, Sansa?" he asked.

In the foyer he said, "Would you like to come to dinner later this week? Agnes has some ideas for your party that she would like to discuss.

"How about tomorrow, or is that too soon?" she asked.

"No, that's fine," he replied. "And perhaps we can find some time for just the two of us," he said in a low voice.

She lowered her eyes demurely, "That would be lovely," she murmured.

He gave her a quick kiss and said that he would send his carriage for her at six o'clock.

After he left, she leaned against the closed door and looked at the doorway to the sitting room. She didn't feel like facing them so she went around to the library. Without a fire in the grate it was cold in the room, so she quickly built one and snuggled into a chair with a blanket until the room warmed. She heard footsteps behind her and assumed that it was Bronn, coming to look for her.

"Is he gone?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer she continued, "I'm sorry for not returning but it was so awkward that I just couldn't face him." She laughed and said, "I was thinking that all I needed was for Joffrey to show up to make it complete."

"Yes, that would have made it quite a party." The deep raspy voice was unmistakable.

She started and turned, peering over the back of her chair. It was Sandor who stood in the room. She groaned and sank back down.

He sat down in a chair next to hers. "Why didn't you want to face me?" he asked.

"I just explained that I felt the situation was very awkward," she said. "So what did you think of Petyr?"

Getting up and putting more logs on the fire he said in a tight voice, "I don't like him."

Smiling she said in a teasing voice, "Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?"

Turning to her he said, "It's more than a note. I wanted to tear that man's head off in there. Just the thought that he may have kissed you enraged me."

The strength of his reply startled her. "Well, your rage is well founded. He has kissed me," she said trying to rattle him.

Prowling towards her, his eyes burning into hers and said in a low voice, "And how did you react to his kisses? Were you able to resist him or did he set your passions aflame? Did you forget everything that was going on around you?" Nearing her, he leaned forward, placing his palms on the armrests of her chair, causing her to sink back in it. "Did you press yourself against him? Did you beg him to take you to his bed?" His breath brushed her cheek he was so close to her.

Unnerved and angered by his questions, she suddenly realized that she shouldn't have goaded him. She turned her head and said, "That is none of your business."

With a push, he rose, laughing darkly causing her to look back at him. "My guess is that he didn't even cause your heart to quicken. Only I can do that, right Littlebird?"

She got up and moved to the billiards table, suddenly wanting to be away from him. She ignored his question and didn't answer him.

He laughed again but this time she refused to look at him. "I'm right, I know I am," he said winding his way between the chairs and following her to the table. She backed away keeping the table between them. "You can't deny it Littlebird, I'm the only man for you."

"You're being rather conceited," she said haughtily.

He rolled a billiards ball across the table. "Do you know how to play billiards?"

"Yes, a little." In fact her father had taught her how to play at a young age. He loved the game and they had spent many afternoons playing.

"How about we play a game, and if I win, you admit that you love me," he said tauntingly.

She rolled a ball back across the table at him. "And if I win?" she asked.

He laughed as he walked over to the cue case and opened it. "I don't think that's going to happen." He selected two cues and handed her one. He set up the balls and offered her the first shot.

"What shall we play to?" she asked walking around the table to take her shot.

"Let's make it easy, shall we? How about 30?" he said.

She could tell he was indulging her, but he was about to get a big surprise, she thought to herself as she lined up her shot. He began to explain the game and the rules to her as she bent over and fired her cue ball at the red one down the table. She neatly scored a winner and stood up and smiled at Sandor. With a surprised expression he removed the ball from the pocket and placed it back on the table. "A lucky shot, I guess," she said innocently. She continued to play scoring both winners and losers. Sandor stared at the table with a stunned expression.

At one point she leaned on her cue and looked at him. "I believe I've scored 23 points. Perhaps we should now agree on what I'll get should I happen to win," she said smugly.

"Well, what would you like?" he asked suggestively.

"How about you stop pestering me about whether I love you or not?"

"Oh, Littlebird, I can't do that," he said with a sly smile.

"Alright, how about if I win, you stop calling me Littlebird," she suggested.

"But I like calling you that," he protested.

"Well, I don't like it," she replied.

"That's precisely why I like it," he said continuing to smile at her.

"Well, then, since losing means giving up something of value, I think you having to stop calling me Littlebird, is fair," she said.

"I want to change my terms as well," he replied.

"You don't want me to admit my undying love for you?" she asked with a mocking tone.

He approached her but this time she stood her ground. In a low voice he said, "No, that you are going to say of your own free will. Not from a bet over a billiards game."

Refusing to be unsettled by his nearness she looked up at him and asked, "Then, what do you want if you win?"

He caressed her cheek and whispered, "Just a kiss."

She swallowed nervously and stepped away from him. A kiss from him could be worse than having to admit her feelings to him. Their kisses always tended to get out of control and she never knew if she had the strength to restrain herself. She wasn't going to back down though. "A kiss it is then," she replied with a calmness she did not feel.

She was nervous this time as she leaned over the table. She misjudged and failed to sink the red ball, effectively ending her turn. Sandor chuckled and adding his cue ball to the table began to take his turn.

She watched anxiously as he scored winners, losers and now that both their cue balls were on the table he was able to score canons as well. She watched him as he confidently walked about the table taking his shots and was reminded of the way he walked around the work table in the cabin of his ship. Recalling how on her first night in his bed she had awoken and been caught staring at his body as he worked on that table caused her cheeks to flush. Sandor saw her reddening face and asked, "Why are you blushing?"

"No reason," she said quickly.

"Come now, do you always spontaneously blush during billiards?" he asked clearly not believing her.

"As a matter of fact, yes I do," she replied with mock seriousness.

"Tell me, what is it?" he insisted.

"If you must know, I was suddenly reminded of the way you walk around the work table in your cabin and I was blushing at the memory of how you caught me staring at you on my first night there."

The image of her lying in his bed, with her hair fanned out all about her, suddenly struck him. He remembered feeling her eyes on him that night and when he had turned to look at her, her eyes were definitely on him but not his face. He had stared at her as her gaze had traveled all over his body, almost been able to feel her caressing him with her eyes. His breath caught in his throat at the memory.

"Yes, you were staring, weren't you?" he said quietly. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he prepared his next shot but was too distracted and made a bad play, sinking her cue ball.

She smiled and walked around the table to take her shot. Trying to unsettle her he said "You appeared to have been liking what you saw that night."

She made her play, scoring a canon, raising her score to 25. "Yes, Mr. Clegane. You're a fine physical specimen of a man," she said with a smile.

He continued his tactics by saying, "Yes, you proved that you think so the night of the storm, when I awoke to find you stroking my bare chest."

He saw that he had hit a nerve when she struck the ball badly, causing it to jump on the table. "Oh, my dear, that will cost you a point and it is now my turn again," he said with a smile.

His score was also 24 and she watched with dismay as he scored two canons in a row. His score was now 28. Quietly she said, "It looks as though you may continue to call me Littlebird."

He walked around the table in order to take his shot and asked her, "How is it that you know how to play this game so well? I should think it quite scandalous for a well bred young lady such as yourself to be so skilled."

"My father taught me. He loved the game but had no one to play with, so he taught me how. I couldn't even see over the table; I had to stand on a chair. My mother was furious of course," she laughed. "She said exactly what you just did, that well bred young ladies should not know how to play billiards." Her voice turned sad as she said, "It's one of the few memories that I have of her."

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"She died of fever when I was five. It's been just me and my father ever since. And now it's just me," she said quietly, tears filling her eyes.

Sandor walked around the table and pulled her into his arms. "You're not alone. You have Bronn and Margaery and you'll always have me. I know that doesn't thrill you but it's true," he whispered to her.

"It's not the same," she replied. Gently pulling out of his embrace, she wiped her eyes and tried to smile. "But, I'll be fine. Let's finish the game. It looks like you're going to win," she said trying to sound positive.

He laid his cue down on the table. "It doesn't matter any more," he said.

"Yes it does, you have to finish the game," she insisted. "Even if it does mean that I have to kiss you." She made a face and he laughed.

"Alright, if you insist," he said leaning over the table.

"Perhaps I can sway things in my favor by distracting you," she said playfully. She moved right into his line of sight and she put her foot up on the edge of the table and pulled back her skirts. He was so surprised that he indeed did miss his shot. His ball rolled about the table not hitting anything.

She lowered her foot. "Ha!" she said triumphantly.

"Miss Stark, surely your father didn't teach you that!"

"No, that is an invention all of my own, created purely for your benefit. Now get out of the way, it's my turn," she said, playfully pushing him aside.

"If I have to cease calling you Littlebird, at least I can console myself by recalling that enticing view of your legs."

She was still smiling as she leaned down to take her shot.

"Of course there are many other memories of more than just your bare legs that I can quite easily bring to mind," he said suggestively.

She was so shocked by what he said that she also made a bad shot. Fortunately she didn't cause the ball to skip this time so her score remained the same, but her turn was over.

He began to line up his shot and she frantically tried to think of something to say or do to distract him. She couldn't think of anything and watched helplessly as he scored another canon, winning the game.

He placed his cue on the table and faced her. "Time to pay up," he said quietly.

"Best two out of three?" she asked nervously, as he approached her.

"No," he said nearing her. "We can play again if you like but I prefer to collect my prize for this game now."

Her breath was already coming faster and he hadn't even touched her yet. He stood in front of her for a moment before wrapping an arm around her waist and drew her to him as his other hand smoothed the hairs from her face. A shiver raced down her spine and she sighed, closing her eyes knowing she had already lost the will to resist him.

"Tell me, Littlebird. Tell me everything," he whispered as he lowered his lips to hers. She didn't know what he meant at first, but then recalled how he had said that she wordlessly told him that she loved him every time she kissed him. She was wondering how to not do that when the whirlwind in her mind swept all her thoughts away. His mouth moved so seductively over hers that she couldn't think of anything else. The pins in her hair were discarded as quickly as the ribbon in his. He crushed her to him and she complied by pressing herself closer. His hands slid over her body, his fingers knowing the curves of her so well and displayed a possessiveness that was undeniable. A breath caught in her throat as he gently squeezed her breasts before his hands slid further, over her ribs and around her side to her hips, gripping them, pulling her even more tightly to him.

She could feel his arousal even through all the layers of clothing that were between them and her own desire spiraled upwards. Holding his head to hers, their tongues entwined as the kiss deepened. She clutched at him as he bent her backwards with the demands of his mouth, his knee nudging her legs apart, slipping a thigh between hers.

His lips slid down her throat and she flung her head back. "Oh Sandor," she breathed, "Sandor...."

He finally drew his head back and looked down into her flushed face. Her eyelids fluttered open and he saw the dazed expression on her face and the passion burning in her eyes. They were both breathing heavily as he continued to hold her. "That was very informative," he said with a smug smile.

He released her and too unnerved to respond to his suggestive remark, she stumbled over to the couch and sank down onto it. He pulled his hair back into its ribbon as he said, "So, shall we play again? Same terms?"

"No, I don't think I can afford to lose again," she said, still trying to catch her breath and still her pounding heart.

He laughed and said, "Admit it, I'm the only man for you."

She looked at him with a small smile. "Never," she said playfully.

He laughed again as he set up the balls and began to play.

The days passed peacefully, and soon the Christmas Ball was only a few days away. Sansa was in her sewing room finishing her gown for the party while Bronn was in town visiting Margaery. He was also picking up the bushels of greenery that she had ordered to decorate the ballroom. Wreaths and swags of holly, ivy, boxwood and bayberry would adorn the walls and mantles. There would also be large clusters of mistletoe hanging in the doorways and arches. Later that day Sandor and Bronn would start bringing the crates of whiskey, brandy and wine upstairs from the cellar. She had discovered several large punch bowls in the attic and had those downstairs awaiting a good washing. 

She held up her dress looking at the almost finished garment. She slipped it over her head. It was a deep green velvet that set off her eyes beautifully. It was gathered into a half dozen deep pleats at the small of her back, creating a very full skirt. She had made the neckline of the sleeveless gown a little lower and more daring than usual as a tribute to Jeyne and had added strings of beads loosely encircling her upper arms. She twirled in front of the mirror that Bronn had mounted on the wall. She heard a horse outside and looking out the window, saw him pulling up with the cart. After making note of a few minor alterations she changed back into her day dress and went downstairs.

He was bringing in the bushels of greenery and they stood in the middle of the ballroom. She was inspecting them when he came into the room with the last one. "They look good, don't they?" he asked.

"Yes, very fresh. Thank you for picking them up," she replied.

"It was no trouble. I'll go back in a couple of days for the fruit you ordered. They said it should be in. Did you finish your dress?" he asked.

"Almost. I have a few minor alterations to make and then I should be done. How is your suit coming? Didn't you have a fitting today?"

"Yes, and I must admit, I am going to look very handsome." He smiled and looked unusually smug. She could tell he was only joking though.

Laughing, she said, "But Bronn, you're always very handsome. That's what Margaery says anyway."

The day of the ball arrived and Margaery came early to the farm with her mother to help with the preparations. They spent the morning decorating with the greenery, while Bronn got out the ladder and hung the mistletoe. Eventually it was time for themselves to get ready and they all went upstairs to dress.

When they came back downstairs things were well under way. Agnes was already there and was briskly issuing orders in a most uncharacteristic manner. Sansa stared at her for a moment surprised that the usually so flustered and unorganized Agnes was barking out orders so efficiently.

The orchestra was setting up and the decorations looked lovely. The chandeliers were ablaze with candles, as were the sconces on the walls. The servants she had hired for the evening were heaping the buffet tables with platters of delectable food. Her guests were going to be overjoyed with the offerings. She had spared no expense and had the most elaborate and expensive dishes possible. The punch bowls were scattered about so that no one would be without a drink. She had even arranged for candelabras outside on the terraces. Being New Year's Eve , it was cold outside but she knew how warm the rooms could become during parties and that some guests would seek the outdoors for a bit of cool air and some for a bit of privacy.

She approached Agnes. "You seem to have everything well under control," she said with a smile.

Agnes spun at the sound of her voice. "Oh my dear, you surprised me. This is always the most taxing part of the evening and as I have done this countless times I thought I would step in to save you the trouble." Keeping a watchful eye on the preparations she whispered, "When dealing with temporary servants you have to be firm with them or they tend to not be as attentive to their duties." She suddenly lightened and stepping back from Sansa said, "Now, my dear. Let me see this stunning gown you are wearing!"

She did a twirl and said, "Do you like it? It's not too daring is it?"

"It may be a little, but not too much. Petyr is not going to be able to take his eyes off you," she giggled.

Bronn entered the room and coughed softly to gain their attention. He was wearing his new suit and being very proud of it, he wanted to show off. Margaery rushed to him, exclaiming how handsome he looked. Sansa couldn't help but smile.

Sandor followed in behind him and she approached him, intending to only coolly greet him. "Good evening, Mr. Clegane. I'm so glad you were able to come tonight."

"Good evening, Miss Stark," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "I wouldn't have dreamt of missing it." He gazed down at her, his eyes taking in how she looked in her gown. "May I say, you look absolutely breathtaking this evening." His eyes sparkled playfully. "Do I detect a hint of Miss Poole's influence in your gown?"

She laughed lightly. "How very astute of you. Yes, this is in tribute to her. How I wish she could be here. I've never attended a ball without her."

"I can only imagine the sort of trouble she's getting into without you there to keep an eye on her," he laughed.

"I try not to think about it," she replied, laughing as well.

He looked around at the ballroom. "I must commend you on the decorations, the room looks wonderful. As does the food. You must have spent quite a bit of money on all this," he said, looking pointedly at her. She still didn't know that he knew about the treasure in her attic.

"Yes, well, it is my intention that tonight be as wonderful as possible. Agnes said that this ball has turned out to be the social event of the season so I couldn't spare any expense," she explained.

"I'm sure your guests will be enthralled with the evening and will talk about it for months to come." He took a step closer to her and asked quietly, "Will you save me a dance tonight?"

She looked at him warily, remembering the last time she had danced with him. It seemed like a lifetime ago but at the same time as if it were only yesterday. She also dimly recalled her drunken intention to dance with him and wished she could now summon some of that bravado. "I'm not sure if I care to dance with you tonight," she said unable to meet his gaze.

"I promise to be on my best behavior," he said with a small bow.

Still avoiding his eyes she said quietly, "Quite frankly, it's not your behavior I'm concerned with. It's mine." She then turned and quickly walked away from him. He could only stare at her retreating back.

Petyr arrived and Sandor glared at him. He knew it was early and that it was going to be a long night but he helped himself to a glass of brandy anyway. More guests started to arrive and the orchestra began to play. Sansa greeted her guests, thankful that Agnes was there to help her as she knew very few of the people that she had invited. Soon the ballroom was full and the party was in full swing.

Petyr took Sansa in his arms and they twirled about the dance floor. She caught a glimpse of Sandor leaning against the wall, watching her, his face twisted into a dark scowl. She turned her attention back to Petyr and ignored his stare.

"That man staring at us, he's the one staying in your out-building isn't he? What is his name again?" Petyr had noticed Sandor glaring at them as well.

"Yes, that's him. His name is Sandor Clegane."

"Why is he glaring at us so? He looks rather angry."

She searched her mind for an explanation. "He doesn't really care for parties. He's only here as a politeness. He'll probably leave as soon as possible."

"But why is he staring at us? He's not looking at anyone else. It's most unsettling."

She almost laughed. Unsettled is what he almost always makes me feel, she thought. How appropriate that Petyr had used the very word that always came to her mind whenever she thought of her encounters with Sandor. "Just ignore him," she suggested. "That's what I intend to do."

After her dance she walked over to Sandor. "Could you please not stare at me so much. It's very rude."

His scowl lifted and he smirked at her. "But I enjoy upsetting you, my love. It creates the most flattering sparks in your eyes."

She glared at him and revealed the very sparks he had just spoken of. "I don't care. You're behaving very badly. If seeing me dance with the man who is courting me offends you so much, you should just go home."

With a slight bow he said, "My most humble apologies for upsetting you, my dear. I will endeavor to behave in a more appropriate manner. As I said before, I wouldn't dream of missing this evening, and I intend to stay until the very end."

She didn't quite know how to take his comment so she only turned and walked away.

She spent the remainder of the evening dancing with various guests, but mostly Petyr. She was enjoying herself immensely and was glad to see that Sandor was true to his word and was no longer devoting so much of his attention towards her. She even saw him dancing several times with some of the single women who had been invited and recognized the looks on their faces as he flirted with them. She was sure she had the same look in her eyes whenever he was so close to her and suddenly realized that he could easily have any woman here tonight. She hated to admit it but she felt a pang of jealousy and turned away, feeling an urgent need for some fresh air.

The dance came to an end and Sandor pulled away from the pretty blond he had been dancing with. She was reluctant to let him go and he could see it in her eyes. However, he wasn't interested. He only wanted to see that look in one woman's eyes.

He scanned the dance floor, trying to spot her. When he couldn't find her he searched the room looking at all the areas where seating was available but still couldn't see her. It was then that a movement up high caught his eye. Looking up he saw a sweep of emerald skirts disappear through the french doors leading to the terrace on the mezzanine level. He poured two glasses of wine and slipped through the doors leading to the foyer and quietly stole up the stairs.


	21. Chapter 21

Sansa stood out on the balcony, deeply breathing in the cool night air. She tugged on the bodice of her dress attempting to loosen it a bit. How did Jeyne tolerate the long hours of dancing and socializing in dresses so tight she wondered. She was leaning her arms on the stone railing when she heard a familiar voice at her elbow.

"Would the belle of the ball care for a drink?" he asked. His deep voice unmistakable.

She turned and saw Sandor standing near her holding out a glass of wine. "You said that your intention tonight was to live up the expectations of hosting the social event of the season. You seem to have succeeded." He raised his glass to her in salute.

"Yes, it seems to be a great success," she replied coolly, accepting the proffered glass, glancing behind him, noting that he had closed the french doors that she had left open.

"You and Paul seem to be enjoying yourselves," he said.

"His name is Petyr," she corrected him impatiently, knowing he most likely called him Paul on purpose.

"Yes, of course, of course," he murmured dismissively.

"Yes, we're having a wonderful time."

"He's not half good enough for you," he stated, casually removing his frock coat and draping it about her shoulders.

She was momentarily taken aback by his chivalrous gesture but was determined to not be swayed by it. "Sandor, is it possible that you're jealous of Petyr?" she said with mock surprise.

"Don't be ridiculous," he retorted. His scars twisted with his frown.

"You are jealous!" she said gleefully.

"And what would I be jealous of?" he asked angrily.

"That someone else is able to hold my interest? That someone other than you can send a shiver down my spine?" She stared at him imperiously.

He returned her stare with glittering eyes. He came very near to her, so near she thought he was going to kiss her. When he spoke she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Does he make you feel the way you do right now? Does his very nearness make you feel the way you do when I stand this close to you?" he whispered.

She hated to admit it but she was reacting simply to his being close to her. Her heart was pounding, her breath was uneven and, of course, the butterflies were fluttering. He could easily see how he effected her.

"I've been watching you my dear Littlebird, and I haven't seen him once get this sort of reaction from you." He stared into her sapphire eyes, his grey ones glowing in the moonlight. "I don't even have to touch you and look at you, you can barely breathe," He whispered. His fingers rose and gently stroked the base of her throat. 

She gasped and stepped away from him, but he kept advancing until her back was against the far railing of the balcony and he was so close his legs were lost in the voluminous folds of her skirt. "Sandor, please," she pleaded softly turning her head.

"Please, what?" he replied, his voice a mere whisper. The faint scent of dark wine on his breath was intoxicating. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as his fingers trailed softly across the lushly exposed tops of her breasts. His hand dipped lower and cupped one mound, squeezing gently. She gasped and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away.

"You may not be aware of this, but I do not care to be groped by you tonight," she said straightening her dress.

"And who would you have grope you? Petyr?" He chuckled softly, "I'd be willing to wager that other than kissing you, he hasn't even touched you. Have you ever asked him to touch you? Have you ever wantonly pressed yourself against him? The same way you did the second time we met when all you knew of me was my name?" He put a finger under her chin, tipping her head back. "You know very well that I'm the only man who can make you feel that way. Admit it, Littlebird."

Instead of sparks of passion his softly spoken words were met with sparks of anger. "Will you please stop pestering me about that! Not now, nor will I ever say such a thing to you!" She pushed him aside and stalked back down the balcony. She stopped halfway down, took a long sip of wine, and rested her elbows on the railing.

He caught a whiff of cigar smoke and looking over the edge of the railing, he saw Petyr lighting a cigar on the lower terrace.

Leaning his back against the railing he said to her just loud enough for Petyr to hear "Come now, Sansa, you know it's true, why do you deny it?"

She rolled her eyes and without looking at him, said, "I came out here to get some peace. Could you please leave me alone?"

"Ah, but my dear, I can't leave you alone. And as much as you'd like to think so, you can't stay away from me either."

"I can stay away from you quite easily, I assure you," she replied, still clearly annoyed with him.

He approached her and said, "Just like on my ship? If you will recall, you were the one who seduced me." He gently pushed his jacket back off one shoulder and trailed his finger along her bare skin.

"Yes, and what a mistake that was," she snorted.

"Come, my love, admit it, you enjoyed yourself immensely," he said tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He trailed his finger around the edge of her ear, and down her throat.

"It doesn't matter whether I enjoyed it or not, it shouldn't have happened."

"It matters to me that you enjoyed it and I enjoyed it as well. Memories of our times together out on deck late at night gave me great comfort during the long voyages back to you. Images of your ivory skin glowing in the moonlight, your eyes shining with desire, ah yes, for many nights they filled my dreams." He paused gazing down at her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyes fairly snapping with irritation. "And not just on my ship. It also happened just down the hall from here. A few steps from where we stand right now."

"That should never have happened either. And you know it wasn't the same. I was very vulnerable, you took advantage."

He growled with anger. "I would never take advantage of you. How am I supposed to resist you when you stare into my eyes and ask me to kiss you, ask me to take you to your bed. I told you before, I'm a man of strong will, but you are just too tempting." He again trailed a finger along her shoulder. She sharply tugged the jacket back up over her exposed shoulder. Changing the subject he asked, "What did you tell Petyr of your journey from England? I'm quite sure you didn't tell him that you spent most of it in my arms."

"What I told him is none of your business," she snapped.

"Let me guess. A tale about a luxurious passenger ship? Yes, that must have been it."

Annoyed that he had guessed correctly, she glanced at him sharply. "Oh, you are just impossible."

"Impossible what? Impossible to resist? I'll wager, I can make you beg me to take you down that hallway in just a few minutes."

She calmly sipped her wine. "I'm not going to give you that chance," she replied.

"All I'm asking for is a dance. You've danced with just about every other man here tonight."

"You know very well why I won't dance with you," she said tersely.

"Because I literally sweep you off your feet and into bed?" he teased.

She turned and refused to look at him. He chuckled quietly, but not so quietly that Petyr wouldn't hear.

"Yes, I believe I would win that wager," he said still chuckling.

She just stood at the railing, fuming.

"Come my love, am I so distasteful? You know that Petyr will never be able to make you happy the way that I can." He took a step towards her. "You've all but admitted that he doesn't stir your passions like I do. And you know that no other man, Joffrey, Petyr, or otherwise, will ever be able to. He could never satisfy you like I can," he said, reaching up under the velvet coat and lightly running his hands down her arms.

"Perhaps I will just have to teach him how to please me. That could be most enjoyable, spending long hours in bed showing him just how to touch me, just how and where to kiss me, how to trail his tongue over..."

Rage suddenly flared in his eyes and he threw his wine glass over the edge of the terrace, causing it to break on the stones below. He snatched hers from her hand and it joined his on the lower level. He gabbed her by the arms and pulled her close to him, causing his coat to slip back off her shoulders. He stared into her startled eyes for a moment and then kissed her, pressing his lips roughly against hers. Shocked by his sudden anger, she twisted in his arms, struggling to get away, as his mouth punished hers, stealing her breath away.

This was no tender, giving kiss. It was driven by frustrated desire and whatever he wanted from her tonight, he took, and he did so greedily. He ground his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips. Try as she might she couldn't help but respond, and she felt a warmth begin in her belly as her mind swirled. Almost against her will, her tongue danced with his and her lips answered his demanding ones. In her mind she was struggling to maintain control but she was quickly losing the fight.

Her head spun and without thinking she pressed herself against him and as he relaxed his grip on her arms, she wound them around his neck. The ribbon soon fell from his hair to his feet where a soft breeze blew it to the terrace below. His kisses grew even more insistent and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. He felt her surrender and moved his mouth to her neck. He pressed his hot lips to her flesh and she flung her head back giving him full access. He trailed wet kisses down to her heaving breasts, where he nibbled the tender flesh.

Her fingers wound through his hair, holding his head to her. As his lips continued to tease along the low neckline of her gown she moaned softly, "Oh Sandor, more, please more."

Knowing what she wanted, he tugged gently on her bodice and was rewarded with a dark pink nipple. Flicking it with his tongue, he continued to tease her. He nibbled the hardened nub before slowly sucking it into his mouth as soft cries slipped from her throat and her hips surged against his, pure desire driving her. A soft groan escaped her lips. He raised his head and licking her ear he whispered "What do you want?"

"You, only you, Sandor. Nobody but you," she replied breathlessly.

He chuckled softly and replied, "Finally, you admit it."

His words shocked her back to reality and with fury quickly replacing desire she pushed him away so forcefully he stumbled. His loose hair fell into his eyes. He gazed at her, her face flushed, lips slightly swollen and red from his kisses, a precocious nipple peeking at him from above her neckline, but it was her eyes that entranced him, brilliant sapphires burning with a mixture of fury and passion.

"What, didn't you enjoy my kiss? You were responding quite ardently, my darling."

"Don't call me that," she said, smoothing her hair back.

"Am I not allowed to call you by any endearment?"

"No, just leave me alone!"

"Is that really what you want? Oh wait, I just asked you what you wanted, didn't I? And what was it you said?" He walked closer to her. "Oh yes, you said you wanted me," His eyes dancing with amusement.

She stared at him with a venomous glare. With a cry of pure frustration, she tore off his elegant coat and flung it at him. She was about to fling open the doors to go back when his voice stopped her. "You may want to adjust your neckline before going back in...my dearest," he said, a smug smile curling his lips.

Shock and dismay colored her face as she gazed down at the errant nipple still standing erect in the cool night air. She angrily tugged her gown back into place before she turned on her heel and stormed back inside. He couldn't help but laugh as she closed the door behind her. As he shrugged back into his coat, he peered over the edge of the balcony. The door was just closing behind Petyr as he went back inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving on the ground. He looked closely and realized it was the ribbon from his hair. He couldn't think of how to retrieve it without walking through the ball room with his hair about his shoulders. A sudden thought struck him and plucking a candle from one of the candelabras lighting the balcony, he slipped through the doors back onto the mezzanine.

Instead of going downstairs, he crept down the hall, stopping outside Sansa's bedroom door. He pressed the catch to open the door to the hidden staircase and holding the candle high, he made his way up. He walked into her sewing room and quickly located a spool of velvet ribbon. One that he noticed she had used in her dress tonight. Setting down the candle, he cut off a length and pulled his hair back. He retrieved the candle, made his way back downstairs and rejoined the party.

As he entered the room he saw Petyr talking with his sister. They were having quite an animated discussion and he wondered if he was telling her about what he had just overheard. He would assume that Agnes would be shocked to the core at what had been said but instead she had a most serious frown on her face. He wondered what they could be talking about. Sansa was chatting with Margaery and as he walked towards them he realized that Petyr must have been able to determine that it was he she was having the conversation with. She had said his name several times, and even though it had been in breathless whispers, it may have carried down to him below.

He approached her and placed a hand possessively on her waist. She started at his touch and seeing that it was him, glared and stepped away. He pulled her back and pointed up, "It would appear to me that we're standing under the mistletoe, my dear," he said softly holding onto her arm.

As he turned his head to look up, she saw the green velvet ribbon in his hair and stared at it. Surely he hadn't been wearing that same ribbon earlier. "Where did you get that ribbon in your hair?" she asked him quietly.

In a low voice he replied, "Well my darling, during our "conversation" just now, you caused the ribbon I was wearing previously to come undone and fall to the lower terrace. I couldn't figure out a way to retrieve it without walking through here with my hair about my shoulders so I slipped up to your sewing room and snipped off a bit of yours." Seeing the anger in her eyes he said "You don't mind do you?"

"You could have just come downstairs and gone through the kitchen. It does have a back door."

"Does it? I didn't know that. Besides, I like this ribbon better."

He was still holding onto her arm and she tried to pull out of his grip. "Not so quickly, Littlebird." He looked up at the mistletoe. "I get to kiss you."

"Haven't you kissed me enough tonight?" she whispered angrily.

"I could never kiss you enough," he replied smoothly as he placed a quick kiss on her lips. He released her and giving Margaery a quick bow he walked away.

Sansa was livid and glared at his retreating back. "He is the most infuriating man ever!' she declared.

"I think he rather likes you," Margaery replied with a knowing smile.

"Yes, and that's exactly the problem," she said watching him walk away.

Petyr approached her. "My dear, I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you!"

"I was just on the upper balcony, getting some air. I was getting rather warm from all the dancing."

"Are you up to some more?" he asked, guiding her towards the dance floor.

"Yes, I believe so," she smiled.

Sandor was also back on the dance floor, the pretty blond once again in his arms, however, his attention was directed towards Sansa and Petyr. He was amazed that Petyr wasn't reacting to what he had heard. If it had been him on the lower terrace listening to that conversation he would have been furious. Yet, he was calm and smiling as he twirled Sansa about the dance floor. Perhaps since they weren't yet engaged, he didn't feel he had any right to be upset by her past indiscretions. Still, she had all but admitted lying to him about how she got to America from England. He would have cause to be angry at her for that, although he could hardly blame her for making up a story.

It was two o'clock in the morning and the ball was finally winding down. The last guests were leaving and Sansa was exhausted but also exhilarated. Her first ball and it had been a smashing success. She had received no end of compliments on her home, her lavish decorations and the sumptuous buffet.

Sandor was back leaning against the wall and could see Agnes and Petyr saying goodnight to Sansa in the foyer. He watched her exchange a few words with Agnes and briefly embrace her. Jealousy then flooded his veins as he watched Petyr slide his arm around her waist and briefly kiss her before departing. He filled his brandy glass again and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

She wandered back into the room with a contented smile hovering on her lips. The orchestra was still playing and Bronn and Margaery were the only ones on the floor. They seemed oblivious that the party was over. She watched them happily as they stared deeply into each others eyes.

Suddenly a pair of arms were around her and she was swept onto the dance floor. She looked up into Sandor's smiling face. "I insist on at least one dance with the hostess," he said.

He was holding her at a respectable distance and she said, "As long as you keep some space between us, I guess it's alright." But as she stared into his warm, inviting eyes the gap between them closed and they were suddenly a mere breath away from kissing. Catching herself, she closed her eyes and turned her head. She pulled out of his arms and almost ran across the dance floor. Before he could catch up with her she had left the ballroom and was heading up the stairs for her room.

Walking along the mezzanine, she was thinking how nice it was going to be to get out of her gown when a thought struck her and she suddenly stopped. She hesitated and then looked down to Sandor, who was watching her from the foyer.

"What is it, my dear?" he asked as she just stood looking at him. It was clear she wanted to ask him a question, but something was holding her back.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" Her question caught him off guard. It certainly was not what he was expecting.

"Too much," he replied with a laugh. She still stared down at him, uncertainty furrowing her brow. "Surely that isn't all you wanted to ask me."

"No," she said slowly. "It's just that...well..." She debated whether to even tell him. "I'm wearing a very restrictive corset tonight and as I'm not used to wearing one and the laces are so tight, I know I won't be able to reach them properly." She again hesitated. "I need some assistance. And who knows how long Margaery is going to be wandering around in there?" she said indicating the ballroom.

Sandor was already halfway up the stairs. "Why didn't you say so? I would be most delighted to assist you with disrobing, Miss Stark," he said as he approached her.

"I do not require assistance disrobing, only with loosening my corset," she said icily.

"Yes, of course," he said quietly, passing by her and moving down the hallway towards her bedroom. He was walking backwards, keeping his eyes on hers. She eyed him warily, not sure if she could trust him.

"Well, are you coming?" he asked, stopping outside her door.

She took a few steps towards him but then turned to go back downstairs. "Maybe I will just wait for Margaery." She was past the end of the mezzanine, when she heard voices from downstairs. It was Bronn and Margaery.

"But Bronn, what if someone sees us?"

"No one will. Sandor's gone home and Sansa's in bed. She was dancing so much tonight, she's probably already sound asleep. Come on, no one will see us." Bronn was on the steps holding Margaery's outstretched hand, urging her up the stairs. Sandor and Sansa watched them from around the end of the mezzanine. Margaery giggled and began to climb the stairs. Not wanting the young couple to know that they had seen them, they quietly ran into Sansa's room and closed the door. They both placed their ears against it.

They heard their footsteps outside in the hallway. From their staggering and the noises they were making they were kissing as they made their way to the end. The two paused outside the door and Bronn whispered, "See? She's sound asleep."

They heard Bronn's bedroom door open and then close. Sansa stepped away from the door with round eyes. She couldn't believe it. "You look positively shocked," Sandor whispered.

"I am shocked. I never would have guessed that they were...that they're ... doing ... that!" she whispered back. "Not them!"

Sandor chuckled softly. "You think you're the only woman with sexual urges, my darling?"

"Stop calling me dear and darling. I don't like it one bit." She glared at him and reached behind her back and began tugging on the lacings of her dress. She looked up in surprise when she heard a faint cry come from across the hall. She and Sandor exchanged a look and she couldn't help but laugh.

He rose from the chair he was sitting in and approached her. "As enticing as it is to see you struggling with your gown, I suppose I should help you." He stepped behind her and pulled loose the ribbons of her dress.

"How did you get the corset on in the first place?" he asked.

"Margaery helped me earlier and I had assumed she would again help me now."

She held the dress to her chest. "If you remove the ribbons entirely, you should be able to loosen the corset without me having to remove my gown." When he didn't move, she said "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, but I don't want to loosen your corset while you still wear your gown. I want you to take it off," he whispered in her ear.

She spun to face to him. "I've had all I can take of you tonight! You can go to the devil! I'll sleep in the damn thing if I have to!"

He cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Such language from a supposedly well bred young lady!" When she continued to glare at him, he turned her slowly and pulled the ribbons out of her dress. He then proceeded to loosen her corset.

"Why didn't you ask Paul to help you with this?" he asked, almost conversationally.

Ignoring his intentional error, she snapped, "You know very well why. He would have been most shocked by such a proposal!"

"But you think it's perfectly acceptable to ask me?"

"Our relationship is entirely different. I'm sure even you can see that!"

"Yes, it most certainly is," he said. He had loosened the corset and trailed his finger along her spine. A shiver followed close behind his touch.

She quickly stepped away from him and inhaled deeply.

"Finally, I can breath," she sighed happily. She turned to face him and taking a few steps back, in a brisk voice said, "Thank you for your assistance. Good night." She stood facing him, still holding up her dress, waiting for him to leave.

"Is that all the thanks I get?" he asked suggestively. As if on cue they heard another cry of passion from the room across the hall.

"If you think you're going to get something like that, you best think again," she retorted.

"I just want a kiss. Just a small, little kiss," he said approaching her again.

"You know there is no such thing between us." She backed away from him, but he kept walking towards her. He was driving her to the edge of her bed.

She stopped a few feet away from her bed and turning her head she said softly, "Could you please go? I really am quite tired and do not have the strength to fight you."

He was standing very close to her, and running his hands softly along her upper arms he whispered "Why must you fight me? Just give in."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I can't. I just can't."

He knew that tonight was not a good time to press her and even if she did give in to him, she would hate him again in the morning, claiming that he had once more taken advantage. He bent his head and kissed her on the cheek, turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.

She let her clothes slide to the floor and she stepped out of them, leaving them where they were. She heard the front door close and quickly walked to the window, naked. She peered out and saw him walking down the front steps and around the house towards the stables. He stopped below her window and looked up. She looked down, and waited a moment before looking up again, but when she did he was gone. She pulled a nightgown on over her head. She crawled into bed and reached under her pillow for the aegirine pendant. With it clutched in her fist she drifted off to sleep.

Sansa was eating breakfast in the kitchen late the next morning when Bronn walked in the back door.

"You've been out already?" she asked.

He hesitated and stammered, "Yes, I woke up early and felt like going for a ride." He avoided her gaze and sat down to breakfast.

"You were still dancing when I went to bed last night. What time did you take Margaery home?"

Still not looking at her he said nervously "I...um...I'm not sure what time it was." The rising sun had been peeking above the horizon when Margaery had kissed him goodbye outside of her house.

"We really should have had her stay over. We do have that extra room. Although, I can understand that it wouldn't be proper for her to stay overnight without her parents here. Imagine the scandal!" she said with false alarm.

"Yes, it would have been most improper."

Unable to resist teasing him she said, "I had the most unusual dreams last night. I don't remember exactly what they were about but there was an awful lot of moaning and crying out, but the sounds were coming from a distance. I awoke at one point and could have sworn that I could still hear them." She glanced at Bronn and seeing his reddening face, she laughed. "Isn't that the strangest thing?"

"Yes, well, sometimes when awakening, dreams and reality do become blurred." Clearly uncomfortable he muttered, "Excuse me." He quickly rose from the table and left the room and Sansa had to struggle to stifle her laughter.

The servants she had hired for the party were to return that day and clean up. She was so relieved she had thought to do that, for the amount of washing up was enormous. Not a task that she would have wanted to undertake. She stretched and thought I really must hire a maid. It would be so nice right now to ask her to draw me a bath, but as it is I must do it myself. She rose from the table and adding the kitchen dishes to the remnants from last night, she stoked the fire in the massive oven and went to go fetch water.

When she returned downstairs, the servants had arrived and were making quick work of the dishes. She found Bronn in the library, staring into the fire.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked as she sat down in a couch opposite him.

"She stayed the night."

"I know." Sansa laughed. I had only gone to bed moments before I heard you two running down the hall."

"I did not mean to do that in your house."

Sansa furrowed her brow. "Surely you're joking, Bronn."

"You do not think badly of me?" He asked.

"Of course not. I am certainly not one to judge that sort of behavior, when as you know, I'm guilty of far worse. At least you're to be married in less than a week," she replied, staring into the fire.

"Well, with the way Mr. Baelish has been talking you'll be married soon as well," he said, trying to cheer her up.

Forcing a smile, she said, "Yes, perhaps you're right.

Bronn looked up at the clock on the mantle. "Sandor will be here soon. He said he would help us take down the decorations."

As if on cue, Sandor walked in the room. He bowed to Sansa. "Good morning Miss Stark. Thank you again for the wonderful party. I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night, especially the later part of the evening," he said, smiling at her.

"Good morning Sandor," she replied, not meeting his gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Good morning Bronn. You were up quite late last night. Did you manage to sleep well?" he asked his friend, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Good morning Sandor. Yes, I did thank you." 

"Shall we get started then?" she asked briskly, walking out of the room.

Both men climbed up on ladders and began pulling down the swags of greenery that were still hanging on the walls and over the tall windowsills. Sansa gathered up what fell to the floor and heaped them into piles which would later be taken outside and burned.

After a few hours they decided to take a break. Sansa went outside for a breath of fresh air and to cool down a bit. She was sitting on a bench on the lower terrace when Sandor came out through the french doors. She watched him warily, not sure if she wanted to be alone with him. He approached and sat on the other end of the bench. After a few moments of silence he said, "I'd like to apologize for last night. I was out of line and I'm sorry."

She stared at him in amazement. She wasn't expecting this. However, she wasn't going to let him get away with a simple apology. Turning her gaze from him she said," You were out of line several times last night, Mr. Clegane. Which incident are you apologizing for?"

He turned to her. "All of them. From the balcony, to under the mistletoe, to our brief dance and then later in your bedroom. I keep telling myself that I don't understand why you're continuously upset with me and then I look back on a night like last night and can't blame you at all. I would have banished me from this house long ago if I were you. I don't know why you put up with me."

Turning to look at him, she said, "You mean a great deal to Bronn and although I hate to admit it," she lowered her eyes before continuing, "I do have a soft spot for you."

He looked at her with surprise. 

"You've played a great role in my life. You brought me here and," she paused shyly before continuing, "you made me a woman. I'll never forget that."

"I thought you hated me for that," he said quietly.

"Isn't if funny how as time passes you tend to forget the bad parts of an event and only remember the good parts?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Moving closer to her, he touched a curly tendril that had escaped from the bun in her hair. "Yes, there were some good parts weren't there?"

Bronn coughed loudly from inside before coming out onto the terrace. "Shall we get back to work?"

They rose and began to walk inside. She caught his arm just outside the doors. "Thank you for the apology," she said with a small smile.

He only nodded before stepping inside.

They worked for a few more hours and soon they were done. "Shall we take the extra chairs and left over alcohol upstairs to the attic?"

Sansa looked around the ballroom, crowded with chairs. "I guess we won't need quite as many for the wedding as we did last night, so we could take some of them up. How about we leave the alcohol and take up half the chairs?"

They spent the next hour hauling chairs up the two flights of stairs to the attic. When they were finally finished, Bronn slumped into one of them and wiped his brow. "I wish you felt comfortable telling Mr. Baelish how to get up here, Sansa. We could have used his help with this."

Sandor frowned and said, "We did just fine without him." Suddenly laughing, he gave Bronn's shoulder a friendly shove. "Look at you, off the ship for only a few months and already complaining about a bit of physical labor."

Later, as Sandor rode back to his house, he again pondered Petyr's lack of reaction to his conversation with Sansa the night before. He recalled Bronn telling him that she suspected that he was more interested in her attic than in her. If that were true, it would explain his lack of action. It would suit his interests more to pretend that he hadn't heard anything. It only would endanger his plans to accuse her of lying and being untrue. If Petyr married Sansa and then found the treasure he could claim it as his own. Even if she chose the other man over himself, if that's what would truly make her happy then he would step aside. But if he was only after her fortune then he was going to fight to keep her. He had to find out what that man's true intentions were.

Sansa, Margaery, and her grandmother were very busy over the next few days making final arrangements for the wedding. Dresses needed to be fitted for the women, suits for the men, decorations and food orders had to be finalized and any number of last minute decisions needed to be made.

The wedding was three days away and she was having lunch with Petyr.

"So how is Bronn holding up? Is he excited about Sunday?" Petyr asked.

"He's trying to act all calm and cool, but I can tell he's so excited he can barely sit still," Sansa laughed. "He really is so happy to be marrying Margaery."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "Weddings are always the happiest of days," he said, smiling at her.

She thought about how unhappy she would most likely have been had her wedding to Joffrey gone ahead. "I guess so," she said quietly.

"Oh my dear, I'm so sorry," he said quickly. "I forgot, how careless of me."

She managed a small smile. "It's alright. Lately I've been surrounded by memories of the preparations of my almost-wedding. I should be getting used to it."

"Are you all ready for your part?"

"Almost. My dress requires one more fitting and then I should be done."

Petyr took a sip of his coffee and trying to sound casual, asked, "And Mr. Clegane, is he ready as well?"

Noting his air of studied indifference, she replied slowly, "Yes, I believe he's ready. Why do you ask?"

"How is it working out, having him living in the out-building?"

"It's working out just fine. Petyr, is everything alright? Are you uncomfortable with Sandor being here?"

Again trying to sound calm, he replied, "I just have a feeling that your relationship with him goes beyond friendship. I'm most likely just being paranoid and jealous." Taking her hands in his again, he continued, "I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't think anything of it until Agnes kept mentioning how irresistibly handsome he is," He looked aweay, almost in disgust, "Even with those terrible scars..." He looked back at Sansa. "I saw the way the women at your party reacted to him," he explained smoothly. "Forget I mentioned it, I'm being unreasonable."

"Well, he is very handsome, and women do flock to him, but I know him all too well and you don't have to worry about me losing my heart to him."

He noticed the scorn in her voice. "What do you mean? I thought he was a gentleman."

The memory of how she felt as the warm glow of lovemaking had slowly dissolved, leaving her cold, when he told her he wasn't going to stay in America with her and that he was sailing back to England in a few weeks flowed over her. How he kept telling her he loved her and wanted her with him, when all he was trying to do was seduce her back into his bed. She gave a derisive snort. "He may appear to be a gentleman, but where a woman's heart is concerned, he is not to be trusted."

Recalling the conversation he had overheard a few days before, he knew what she was referring to and chose not to pursue it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers!!! A thousand apologies for the lack of updates. I was out of town, but am back and will be updating everyday again. :)

With a small cry, Sansa bolted upright in bed, her head still swimming from the dream she had just awoken from. Her heart was pounding and she shivered from the thin sheen of sweat covering her trembling body. Shimmering visions of her dream floated through her mind, Sandor passionately making love to her, teasing her senses, stretching her nerves taut with lust and desire.

Her thighs were clenching and shaking and with a sudden loud gasp, she reached the climax she had been searching for in her dream. With a groan of frustration she fell back against the sheets. Her desire for him had been bad enough when he had been away but with him constantly around, tempting and teasing her, it was quickly becoming unbearable. She knew there was only one way to ease her torment, but it was unthinkable. Inviting him back into her bed would only satisfy her momentarily and cause more misery than the temporary relief was worth.

Twenty minutes later, as she sat on Lady staring at the darkened windows of the out-building, she repeated those words to herself, but found that she still didn't turn her horse back to the house. I must be out of my mind to even be out here, she thought to herself. I should just go back to bed. Unbidden, images from her dream again flooded her mind, causing her breath to catch.

Sandor stood inside peering at her from behind a small part in the curtains. He had been sitting in the main room of his small house, unable to sleep. In the dim light of the moon shining in through the window he had been staring at the calling card given to him by the pretty blond from the ball. He was getting nowhere with Sansa, and his attempt to ruin Petyr's interest in her had failed and he was beginning to think that maybe he should just try and forget her. The pretty blond was a young widow from France who had boldly told him that she would be more than willing to satisfy him in any manner he wished. Gazing at the card, he had wondered if a dalliance with her while his ship was being repaired would be enough to distract his mind from Sansa. When his ship was ready he would then sail away, never to return, forgetting all about Sansa, Williamsburg and the pretty blond.

With a groan of frustration, he had dragged his fingers through his loose hair, knowing that there was nothing on this earth that would erase Sansa from his mind. He had been about to throw the card into the glowing embers in the grate when he'd heard a horse approaching. Wearing only a pair of breeches, he dropped the card to a side table and slipped his arms into a shirt before going to investigate.

What was she doing out here and why was she just sitting there, staring at the cabin, he wondered. He watched as she tipped her head back, staring up at the stars and sigh heavily, her breath coming out in puffs in the cold night air.

She hung her head, confused emotions swirling in her heart. Unable to forget how she had reacted to his embrace on the balcony during her Christmas Ball made her wonder how she truly felt about him. Was it only lust, is that what she was doing out here? Trying to finish what had started that night? Or was it more?

"Are you going to sit out here all night?" The soft, deep voice startled her and her head jerked up. Sandor was standing on his small veranda staring at her, his open shirt lifting slightly in the light breeze.

Watching her, he saw her eyes roam over the muscled planes of his exposed chest and abdomen taking in the intoxicating view of his bare flesh. He could see the hunger blazing in her eyes and confirmed his suspicions of why she had come. He also knew why she wasn't coming any closer. Stepping to the edge of the small porch, he extended his hand. "Come inside Littlebird. It's cold out here."

Indecision stormed in her eyes. "Come on. It's warm inside," he gently urged.

With intending to, she slipped from the saddle and knew that she was lost. She would not be leaving the small house any time soon. On unsteady legs she ascended the steps to his front door and went inside.

It was indeed warm inside, but it did little to alleviate her trembling. With shaking fingers she unbuttoned her coat, as he stood behind her, pulling it from her shoulders, when her eyes fell on the calling card laying on the table. Picking it up, she read the name, Marie Beaumont. "What is this?" she asked, holding up the card.

"It's from a woman at your party," he responded casually. Perhaps jealousy was a way to make her realize her feelings for him. "She invited me to call on her, and I'm considering it," he said, restarting the fire in the grate.

"Oh?" she asked warily, unsure how to feel about this. She had been glad that he had danced with so many women at the ball, but she didn't think he would seriously consider calling upon any of them. Striving to keep her voice light, she questioned, "Which one was she? Agnes created the guest list, I didn't know most of the people there."

"A pretty blond. A couple of years older than you, a young widow. Her husband died on the crossing from France. These cards are quite popular there." He plucked the card from her hand and slid it into his pocket. "She was quite earnest and frank in inviting me to her home," he said with a wicked smile. "Since you're so insistent that I stop bothering you, maybe I'll begin to bother her."

Sansa swallowed nervously, surprised to feel jealousy surging through her. She didn't want him 'bothering' anyone else. Especially not a pretty, young widow.

"Unless you would rather I didn't," he teased.

Frantically she tried to come up with a reason for not wanting him to call upon her. When she couldn't think of anything that wouldn't reveal herself to him or sound hypocritical, she could only say, "Who you see is of no matter to me. I hope you find her to your liking."

"She said she's willing to satisfy me in any way I wish, so that already makes her to my liking. I haven't had another woman since you, my dear, and your confused and volatile emotions are beginning to wear me down. I'm afraid I've lost the desire to fight for you any longer." He pulled the card from his pocket and gazed down at it. "Yes, perhaps an attractive, willing woman is just what I need until my ship is repaired." Slipping the card back into his pocket, he glanced up at her. "But enough about my frustrated desires. What brings you out here in the middle of the night?" His eyes were dancing with amusement, knowing that it was her own frustrated desires had driven her to him.

"I...um...I..." Her brain churned furiously, desperate to think of a reasonable explanation for her midnight visit.

Approaching her, he gently pulled her to him. "I know why you've come. You can't stay away from me anymore than I can stay away from you, can you?" he asked, his voice low.

"No, that's not-" he quickly pressed his lips to hers, cutting off her protests, pulling her tightly against him. Refusing to admit that she wanted him so badly, especially when his interest in her was waning, she pushed at his shoulders, wrenching her mouth from his.

"How dare you assume that I came out here for that! You really do think highly of yourself, don't you? Assuming that every woman around wants you. Well not me. You can have your little, French, blonde widow," she sneered, trying to pull out of his embrace.

Without releasing her, he walked her backwards, until her back was pressed against the wall. "I don't want any little, French blondes. I only want you, my fiery, English red head. Only you," he rasped, before his lips again descended to hers.

Twisting her head away, she gasped, "I don't care what or who you want. Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me why you're here," he replied, keeping her pinned to the wall.

"It doesn't matter any more why I'm here. All I want now is to go," she all but shouted at him.

"No, not yet," he purred, a lusty smile curling his lips.

She stared down at him as he dropped to his knees in front of her. What in the world, she thought as his hands reached for the tips of her shoes peeking out from beneath her skirts. Her breath caught in her throat as his large hands slid over her slender feet and then up and around her slim ankles. Slowly, he drew his hands up her calves, his arms pushing her skirts up as he went.

"No stockings this evening, Miss Stark?" he drawled, his rough hands caressing her bare flesh as they slipped over her knees. His hands slid over her bare thighs until his fingers touched the edges of her pantalets. "Such scandalously short pantalets, my dear," he laughed. "Are such seductive garments for my pleasure?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he found the frilly garment's opening between her thighs and only a gasp escaped her lips as his fingers delved inside. He slid through the wet folds of her, seeking and finding her pleasure center. She trembled against the wall, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.

Not removing his hand, he rose in front of her, cradling her cheek with his other hand as she gazed up at him with lust filled eyes. "Oh Littlebird," he breathed as his lips again descended to hers, his tongue being granted immediate entry to her mouth. His hand slid from her cheek down her throat to her breast, where he squeezed her gently.

Suddenly tensing she rose up on her toes, her back arching against the wall. Sandor pulled his lips from hers as a harsh cry erupted from her throat, her hands clutching at him, her fingers digging into his flesh. His hand nestled between her clenching thighs was drenched as she climaxed, his continuous stimulation taking effect.

Quickly tearing open his breeches, he easily lifted her in the air. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, holding tightly to his shoulders as he slowly lowered her. Crying out with frustration, Sansa wriggled in his arms as he held her suspended with just the tip of his throbbing manhood touching her opening.

"Please, Sandor," she panted, her desire to have him fill her burning through her veins.

"Tell me why you came here tonight," he demanded, refusing to lower her.

"No...please," she gasped, writhing in his arms.

He lowered her an inch, teasing her with just the head of his shaft. "Tell me," he whispered, his voice harsh from the passion he was struggling to keep in check until she said the words he wanted to hear.

Her lust for him won out over her self respect and she confessed. "You're right, I can't stay away from you. Take me Sandor, take me. I can't stand it anymore," she pleaded. "Take me and end this agony." He had a quick recollection of her saying those same words the night she had seduced him in his cabin as he gazed into her glowing eyes.

"And young Madam Beaumont ? How do you feel about her?" he teased.

"To hell with Madam Beaumont! Please, Sandor, take me!" she begged, her frustration getting the better of her. A loud cry burst from her as he suddenly dropped her onto himself, fully penetrating her with one thrust.

Holding her around the waist, against the wall, he drove into her and was surprised by her almost immediate climax. Gripping her tightly with one arm, he pulled her away from the wall, and tore at the laces on her gown with his free hand. They came loose and she pulled the gown off over her head as he carried her to the couch. Laying down with her above him, she began to ride him, her own fervent desire setting the pace. She leant over him, offering her breasts to his lips, and squeezing them gently, he sucked an erect nipple into the warm confines of his mouth.

"Oh, Sansa, you are so beautiful," he murmured, switching from one breast to the other. As usual when he was with her he was in heaven. The world was never better than when their bare flesh connected and she was filled with desire and lust for him. He also knew she was filled with love for him, but just didn't seem to realize it.

Sansa sat above Sandor, watching as his full lips closed around her nipple. His other hand gently squeezed her breast, tweaking the nipple. She rode him with all the lust coursing through her, hoping to erase any thoughts of taking up with another woman. It was selfish, she knew that, but in this moment she didn't care, she could figure it out later.

Surprising him, she suddenly rose and moved down the couch, her lips hovering above his glistening cock. For a moment she stared into his eyes, glowing in the flickering light from the fire, before she lowered her head and slid him into her mouth.

"Oh dear God, Littlebird," he groaned as her lips closed around him. Hungrily she sucked on him, taking him as deeply into her mouth as she could. His groans of pleasure were the sweetest music to her ears and she did her best to pleasure him. His back arched up off the bed, the hand in her hair clenching as he climaxed, his seed suddenly filling her mouth and she swallowed every drop, neatly cleaning him off.

Gazing up at him, she drank in the view of his powerful body sprawled before her, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand moved, releasing the hold on her hair. Opening his eyes, he said, his voice soft and low, "Come up here."

She nestled against his side, content to just lay with him, her flesh pressed to his. "Why are you here?" he asked her.

She hesitated before answering, afraid of the words that would come out of her mouth. "I just couldn't stay away. I had to have you again."

Hesitating, worried she might get angry but needing to know he asked, "Me, or what we just did? Do you think Petyr could have satisfied your needs?" he asked.

She was thoughtful, considering his questions. "You and what we just shared is what I came for, and I'm not sure if he could. You're the only man I've ever been with so I'm not sure how it would be with some one else." Thinking for a moment she asked him, "How does it feel to be with other women? Has anyone made you feel the way you do with me?"

Choosing his words carefully, he answered, "My other experiences left me ultimately feeling empty. They were satisfying while they lasted but that's all. With you it's different." Tipping her chin to look into her eyes, he continued. "The feeling with you lasts and makes me want more. And the longer I deny myself the more I want you, need you. I have to have you." He punctuated his statement with a kiss that stole her breath away, and ignited both their passions once again.

It was just before dawn when Sansa mounted Lady and rode back to her house. They had made love twice more before she had slipped from his bed, making sure to take Madam Beaumont 's card with her. Sandor didn't miss it.

Back at the house, she stood before her own fireplace staring down at the calling card. Would he have really called upon her? He had made it quite clear that she had invited him to have an affair with her and he was right about how confused she was when it came to sorting out her emotions for him. Once again, she acknowledged that her jealousy was unfounded, after all she was being courted by someone. Was it unfair of her to want him constantly on the side lines, chasing after her, accepting her affection when she chose to dole it out to him? Yes, it was unfair, she admitted.

But why was she jealous? Because it was flattering to have such an obviously desirable man interested in her. But then again, Petyr was desirable and he wanted her. Even though he wasn't as blatantly handsome as Sandor, he was attractive in a smaller, more refined way. When she really thought about it, Sandor's good looks were almost obscene in their raw maleness, in the pure sexuality he exuded. The burns that scared her once, now added to that. It was that imperfection that made him even more perfect to her. Petyr was a much more sensible choice for a husband, and besides, Sandor wasn't going to stay in Williamsburg. Once his ship was repaired he would be gone and she most likely wouldn't see him again until well after she was Mrs. Baelish if indeed she ever saw him again.

Oh, who am I kidding, she asked herself, her shoulders slumping. I'm crazy about him, if not completely in love with him, she finally admitted to herself. So now she was in a situation where she loved a man who was going to vanish from her life in a few months and another that she liked well enough, but would never love, who was never going to leave her.

With a sigh she tossed the Madam Beaumont's calling card into the fire and crawled into bed. She couldn't possibly figure this out right now and decided to think about it after she had slept.

The next few days were such a blur of activity that she didn't have a chance to consider Sandor or her tangled feelings for him. It was the night before the wedding and Sansa had arranged a lavish dinner for Margaery and her grandmother, Bronn and Sandor. They went over the plans for the next day and drank many toasts to the soon to be married couple. After dinner, while relaxing in the sitting room, Mrs. Tyrell declared that she was exhausted and went up the spare bedroom, where she was spending the night. After they were settled, Sansa, Sandor, Margaery and Bronn moved to the library.

Bronn retrieved two more bottles of wine and filled everyone's glass. They were joking and laughing and enjoying themselves a great deal. Bronn rose from his chair and standing before Margaery, he asked, in a not quite clear voice, "My dearest love, would you care to dance?"

She giggled and replied, "But Bronn there's no music."

He stood as though listening. "Ah, but I hear music. It is your beauty and our love that fills my heart with song. Come, dance with me." He pulled her to her feet and twirled her out of the room.

Both Sansa and Sandor laughed as they watched them go. He rose, picked up the wine bottle and filled her glass before sitting next to her on the couch. They clinked glasses and said in unison, "To the happy couple." They both laughed.

"So my dear Littlebird, when are you going to finally break down and marry me?"

"Break down and marry you? You've never even asked me," she replied, still laughing.

"What if I did?" he asked, suddenly serious.

She laughed again, trying to lighten the mood, but saw the look in his eyes. "I don't know. Are you proposing right now?" she asked lightly.

"Maybe."

She turned and looked at him, her heart suddenly pounding. "If this is some kind of joke or another of your games, I don't like it one bit," she said indignantly, suddenly terrified that he was serious.

He leaned back against the couch and took a sip of wine. "You can relax, my dear, I'm not proposing."

She sighed and leaned back as well. She was trying to decide if she was relieved or disappointed, when he said, "Not yet, anyway." He paused for a moment. "But I will someday."

"Not if Petyr beats you to it," she teased.

He sat up and stared at her. "You're not going to marry that fool."

With sparks of anger flashing in her eyes she retorted, "He is not a fool. And I will marry whomever I choose and it may very well be Petyr!"

"He's not half good enough for you," he replied.

"Oh and I suppose you think you are?" she mocked.

Calmly he said, "Yes, I am. I've told you many times already, I'm the only man for you and you're the only woman for me. We belong together."

Goading him, she said, "Well then, why not ask to marry me now? If we're destined to be together, why wait?"

"Because you're not ready," he rasped, taking another sip of wine.

Angry that he was being so condescending, she asked, "What do you mean I'm not ready? You obviously think I'm ready to be taken to bed, but not ready to be your wife?"

He stood and drained his glass. She nervously watched as he placed it on a side table and then got down on one knee in front of her. He looked up at her wide blue eyes. "You think you're ready? Fine then." He cleared his throat. "Miss Stark, will you marry me?"

Utterly dumbfounded, she stared at him. Her heart was pounding and she suddenly found she couldn't breathe. The moment stretched into an eternity and all she could do was stare at him. She tried to speak but couldn't find any words, she had no idea what to say. Her mind couldn't seem to comprehend what was happening.

Finally he stood and sat beside her again. She was still staring at the spot where he had been kneeling. He took her wineglass from her hand and took a sip. "Well my dear, that was a stunning display of readiness."

When she didn't reply he glanced at her. She was still staring at where he had been kneeling. Suddenly concerned he shook her gently by the shoulders. "Sansa are you alright? Say something."

She slowly turned to him, her eyes still dazed. She looked at him, blinking rapidly. She stood and walked slowly over to the billiards table. Idly rolling a ball, she said quietly, "I guess you were right."

He refilled their glasses and walked over to her. Handing her glass to her he said, "I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't think it would have such an effect on you."

She put down her glass untouched. "I'm suddenly very tired. I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight," she murmured, heading towards the door.

He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her towards him. He saw the tears shimmering in her eyes even though she kept them lowered. He put a finger under her chin, trying to tip her face up to him, but she twisted her head away. "Littlebird, please..." he said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know," she said in choked voice. "You didn't mean any of it." She turned and ran from the room and up the stairs.

She closed and locked the door behind her and then flung herself on the bed, weeping into the blankets. She wanted to believe that he had meant it but had known that he didn't. He was only mocking her. Why did she always set herself up for these things? It was her own fault. She knew better than to goad him, every time she did he ended up winning. He always won and she always lost.

Sandor took a large swallow of wine and sank down onto the couch. He hadn't let on, but as he had knelt before her, his heart had been pounding and it took every ounce of his self control to keep his voice even. He had been elated that she was so stunned she couldn't even speak. He had been expecting her to laugh at him and call him a fool. But he had seen it in her eyes, seen that spark of hope that he was being serious. The next time he would be, when she was ready for him, when she finally admitted that she loved him.

She woke hours later and peered up at the windows and saw that it was still dark out. She rose slowly and took off the dress that she had cried herself to sleep in and pulled a night gown over her head before climbing under the blankets. She drifted back into an uneasy sleep tormented by nightmarish dreams of weddings where the groom kept changing between Sandor and Petyr.

Awaking the next morning, she thanked the heavens that she didn't look anywhere near as bad as she felt. Her head was pounding and that train was running through her head again, but not as a loud as before. She pulled on a house coat and walked downstairs. The servants she had hired for the day were already busy preparing breakfast. Bronn had slept at Sandor's house the night before and Margaery had slept in Bronn's room. Margaery and her grandmother were just sitting down to breakfast when she arrived.

The wedding was set for later in the afternoon, so they had a long leisurely breakfast. After, Mrs. Tyrell went to the kitchen to check on progress there.

Sansa and Margaery were upstairs in Sansa's room, laying out the wedding dress. "It's a beautiful dress, Margaery," she said.

"Thank you so much for helping me with it. It never would have looked so pretty without your help."

Margaery slipped behind a screen and began to change her clothes. She put on pretty new underclothes and came out with her corset loosely laced. Her grandmother arrived then and began pulling it tight. "Dear, there is something I must talk to you about," the older woman said.

"What is it grandmother?" she asked, holding onto one of the posts of Sansa's bed.

"Well, it's about tonight, when you and Bronn are together for the first time," she said briskly.

Margaery lowered her eyes and blushed guiltily. Her grandmother of course had no idea that she and Bronn had already been to bed together and took the blush to be one of shyness and continued. "You may be scared but just try to relax. The first time may not be very good but it will get better. I even learned to enjoy it," she said with a giggle. She gave the corset ties a final tug and then tied them off. Just then, a loud crash was heard from the kitchen. "My dear, I better go see what that was about." She bustled out of the room.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Margaery began to laugh. Sansa looked at her with surprise. "Oh Sansa, that was most amusing!" Sobering she said, "But I have a confession to make."

Sansa spoke before she could continue. "I know, Margaery."

Margaery looked at her with wide eyes. "How do you know? Bronn didn't..." she trailed off.

"Oh heavens no," she laughed. "I sleep right across the hall! And you and Bronn aren't very discreet," she laughingly admonished.

She looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh, what you must think of me!"

Smiling at her, she replied, "No, of course not. You love each other and it's perfectly natural to want to express it that way."

She impulsively gave Sansa a hug. "Thank you. I was feeling terribly guilty about it, but hearing it put that way, I feel so much better."

Wanting to change the subject, she said cheerfully, "I'll go find the girl who is supposed to do your hair." She slipped from the room and as she descended the stairs, she thought back over her words, 'You're in love and it's only natural to want to express it that way'. Is that what it meant when she and Sandor wound up in bed together? She shook her head. Of course not, it's only lust she thought to herself. Lust and misguided passion.

While Margaery was having her hair done, Sansa and Mrs. Tyrell took the cart and rode out to the out-building. Bronn and Margaery were going to spend their wedding night there and it had to look romantic. They hauled flowers and candles and fresh linens into the house. Sandor had thankfully kept it very clean so they only had to decorate.

The men helped them carry in their bundles and the women set to work. Mrs. Tyrell was suprisingly strong for her age. It didn't take very long and the house was soon transformed. "At night it will look magical," Sansa sighed, rigging a large sheet of lace over the bed as a canopy. She then scattered rose petals over the coverlet. There were bouquets of flowers sitting on the dressers along with several candelabras. She gave the bedroom one final look and then turned to the door. Sandor was leaning against the door frame staring at her with a warm glow in his eyes. She started when she saw him and their eyes met. They stared at each other for a moment, both recalling the hours they had spent in his bed only a couple of nights ago, before he lowered his eyes and stood aside so she could pass. "It looks magical now," he said to her in a low raspy voice, as she walked past him.

The two women arrived back at the house and found Margaery patiently waiting for them in Sansa's room. Her hair had been done up beautifully. All that was left was for her to get dressed. She stepped into the gown and it was soon laced up. As she turned to look at herself in the mirror, her grandmother placed the veil atop her head. The two women gasped at how beautiful she looked. Mrs. Tyrell pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "You look so beautiful!" she sniffed. "Just like an angel."

They went downstairs to the carriage that was waiting to take them to the church. Bronn and Sandor had gone on ahead of them and were waiting there. Margaery was nervous and excited during the short trip. They pulled up out front and Margaery slowly got out of the cab. Sansa and Mrs. Tyrell made sure her dress didn't drag on the ground as they made their way inside.

Sansa stood inside the front doors with Margaery holding her hands. "You're alright?" she asked.

Margaery's eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed pink. She licked her lips nervously and nodded. "Yes, yes I'm alright."

"Ready?"

Clutching her bouquet she again nodded.

They nodded to the usher and he opened the inside doors to the church. The organ began to play and Sansa stepped forward to make her way down the aisle. She saw Sandor standing up at the front. Her eyes went to Sandor's and held. This is how it would be if it were us being married, she thought. She felt a familiar chill race down her spine and tore her eyes away from his. She took her place on the other side of the priest from the two men and looked back towards the double doors she had just come through. The music changed and everyone turned back to look as well.

Margaery stood in the doorway. Sansa glanced over at Bronn and saw him staring at his bride in awe. She smiled and turned back to watch Margaery come down the aisle. Sansa turned and again Sandor caught her gaze. This time she couldn't tear her eyes away. She was drawn into the warm depths as the priest began to address the gathering. Before she knew it, Margaery was handing her bouquet to her to hold. She stared at it for a moment before remembering where she was and taking it. She passed the remainder of the ceremony avoiding Sandor's grey eyes, but still able to feel them on her.

Bronn and Margaery were married and began walking out of the church together. Sandor approached her and took her arm to walk her out. She hesitated slightly before linking her arm with his. He placed his hand over hers and she felt her heart flutter.

Guests were already arriving when they returned to the house. The next hour passed in a blur of greeting guests and making sure that everything was going smoothly. She finally had a chance to sit and was releasing a sigh of relief when Sandor sat next to her. He handed her a glass of wine and she sipped from it gratefully. "You look beautiful," he said to her.

"Thank you," she replied, her eyes scanning the crowd. She smiled happily when she saw Petyr and Agnes arrive. "Excuse me," she murmured to Sandor.

He watched her walk across the ballroom to greet them. Jealousy rose in him as he watched Petyr wrap his arm around her and kiss her on the cheek. He had to expose him to Sansa for the fraud that he was. But he had to be careful and patient. His chance would come.

Dinner was announced and the guests began to find their places at the table. The wedding party were all seated together so Petyr was not able to sit with Sansa, Sandor, of course, was seated next to her. They chatted pleasantly through dinner, but Sansa had a hard time concentrating on the conversation. Sandor's thigh kept pressing against hers under the table and whenever he used his napkin and then replaced it on his lap, his hand would brush her leg. She knew he was doing it on purpose but she couldn't ask him to stop without drawing attention to herself so she just tried to ignore it.

Sandor knew he was behaving badly but he couldn't resist. He knew he was unsettling her by the way she kept losing track of the conversation. With amusement, he watched as she desperately tried to ignore his attentions but was unable to. Half way through the meal he decided to give her a respite and pulled his leg away and stopped touching her. After a few minutes, when she realized that he was done tormenting her, she said, her voice barely above a breath, "Thank you."

Sandor was about to put a forkful of food into his mouth, when he suddenly felt a gentle touch on his thigh. The grilled pheasant tumbled off his fork as fingers softly traced lazy circles on his leg. He knew it was Sansa and he glanced at her. Her hand was indeed under the table but she was casually asking Margaery about her planned honeymoon to England. They were discussing where they were going to go and Sansa was giving advice on shopping in London. Sandor could hardly believe she was doing this. She glanced at him and he saw the mischievous twinkle in her eye. She's doing it to get even, he thought. He re-pierced his piece of pheasant and sat back chewing it, enjoying the sensation of her fingers on him.

She chanced another glance at Sandor and saw the self-satisfied look on his face. Her plan was to unnerve him, not to make him happy. She dipped her fingers down to the inside of his thigh and began tracing circles there and happily watched him choke on a sip of wine. Innocently she asked, "What do you think Sandor? What should they see in England?"

He cleared his throat and desperately tried to think of something, anything, but her fingers on his inner thigh. He reached down to retrieve his napkin, wiping a drop of wine from his chin, and gripped her wrist in the process. He removed her hand from his leg and now able to think suggested they take a short trip up to Scotland and see the castles in the area. He held her tightly as she tried to pull her hand away. They began to discuss this option and he placed her hand back where it had been. He chuckled softly at her light gasp.

After dinner, dancing was announced. Bronn and Margaery had the first dance of course and then Sandor and Sansa joined them for the second. "Did you enjoy your dinner, Miss Stark?" he asked her with a gleam in his eye.

"Yes, I did, and you?" she asked him sweetly.

"Yes, the pheasant was particularly enjoyable," he said with a smile.

"Oh did you like it?"

"Very much so. You could say it tickled my fancy," he said suggestively. "However you seemed distracted during the first part of the meal. Was something bothering you?" he asked innocently.

"You know very well what was distracting me," she whispered at him, giving up the game.

"The fact that you retaliated only indicated to me that you didn't mind so much," he whispered back. When she didn't reply he chuckled softly. "You can't resist me, can you? You'll use any excuse to touch me."

"What I would love to do right now is slap you. I spotted you as a rogue the day I met you and I haven't been proven wrong yet," she hissed at him.

"Roguishly handsome, I believe, is what your good friend Jeyne called me."

"That's her opinion of you, not mine," she retorted.

She had been avoiding his gaze during their dance and he commented on it. "Why won't you look at me Littlebird? Let me see those lovely blue eyes."

"No, I'd rather not," she replied. She didn't trust herself to look at him, knowing how easily she could embarrass herself while dancing with him.

He again chuckled at her. "Well, later, when the whole room isn't watching us, will you dance with me again?"

"Perhaps," she answered airily. "Unless of course, Petyr manages to claim all my dances."

He gripped her hand tightly, and the muscles at his jaw clenched. He didn't say another word though, and it was her turn to chuckle at him.

Petyr did indeed whisk her away as soon as the dance was over and he kept her away from Sandor for the next couple of hours. It wasn't very difficult as all the single ladies at the party flocked to him and he danced each dance with a different one. He seemed to have forgotten all about her but was actually watching her very carefully. He saw her slip out the door to the foyer at one point while Petyr was engaged in a conversation with another man. Guessing where she was going he looked up and sure enough he saw her dart through the french doors to the upper terrace. He watched Petyr end his conversation and look for her. Sandor saw his eyes coming around to him and he turned and looked at the french doors leading to the lower terrace. He stared at them for a moment and then glanced at Petyr. His ruse worked. Petyr was heading towards them. This was the chance he was waiting for and he quickly followed him outside.

Petyr was about to come back inside, not having found Sansa on the terrace when Sandor came through the doors. He felt obliged to linger and exchange a few words with the man, even though it was quite clear that they didn't like each other.

"Baelish, I've been wondering something," he said, loudly enough for Sansa on the upper terrace to hear him.

"Yes?" Petyr replied, trying to sound casual.

Sandor lit a cigar and spoke almost conversationally. "You were out here during the last party while Sansa and I were on the balcony and I know you heard our entire ... conversation ... yet you've done nothing about it."

Nervously, he replied, "I have no claim over Sansa. She can do as she pleases."

Sandor feigned surprise. "Are you not courting her?"

"Yes, but until I ask her to marry me, she is a free woman."

He looked pointedly at the older man. "So, even though you know what has happened between her and I, you don't care?"

"Until she is my wife, no."

"That's rather cold of you," Sandor accused.

"Sansa is a very fine woman. I'm willing to overlook her past indiscretions. Actually those indiscretions are very reassuring. It's nice to know that I'll have a passionate wife."

Sandor looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Yes, she is a very fine woman and a very wealthy one too."

Petyr tried to sound casual. "I didn't realize that she's wealthy. I understand her cousin Bronn recently came into an inheritance or some such thing."

He chuckled darkly. "or some such thing," he said mockingly.

Petyr stared at him confused.

He studied the glowing end of his cigar. "She didn't tell you where their sudden fortunes came from?"

Petyr was still striving to sound casual, but an eager gleam in his eyes betrayed him. "No, where?"

"Why in the attic of course. There's a king's ransom up there. Rather, several kings."

Petyr tipped his head back and stared at the upper windows. In an awestruck whisper he said, "It is up there. I knew it!"

Sandor looked at him with surprise.

Sandor, with a mocking laugh said, "Yes, Clegane, you guessed right. I'm after that fortune. My fortunes have dwindled in recent years and that's the only reason why I'm courting her."

Anger sparked in Sandor's eyes. "Aren't you afraid I'll tell her?"

Petyr scoffed at him. "Go ahead. She won't believe you. She told me herself she thinks you're untrustworthy."

Concealing his anger, Sandor casually shrugged. "Doesn't much matter. She doesn't trust you enough to show you how to get up to the attic. I, however, do know."

Petyr stared at him in disbelief. "You?" He then smiled knowingly. "Ah yes. Little Bronn seems to think quite highly of you, doesn't he? I'll wager he showed you, not her. No matter. Once we're married, this house will be mine and so will she. I'll demand she show me."

Sandor began to laugh. "I see you haven't yet seen her willful side. You can demand all you want. If she doesn't want to do something, she won't."

Petyr replied in an imperious tone. "She'll be my wife, my property. If she disobeys me I have the right to beat her She'll tell me."

The laughter died on Sandor's lips and his face hardened at Petyr's words. He pulled himself up to his full height, a murderous look in his eyes. "If you ever lay one hand on her, so help me, I'll kill you with my bare hands," he growled menacingly.

Petyr, trying not to cower managed to say, "You will have no right to interfere with our marriage."

"Where Sansa is concerned, I'm used to overstepping my rights. I don't intend to stop simply because of you." He then turned on his heel and stormed inside.

Sansa stood on the balcony, hardly able to believe what she had just heard. She rushed through the french doors and down the hallway to her room, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She had a ballroom full of guests to attend to, she had no time to attempt to make sense of what had happened. She was heading back down the stairs when she saw Sandor coming up them. He stopped when he saw her.

"Littlebird, are you alright?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Yes, please excuse me, I have guests to attend to," she said as she brushed past him. She passed the remainder of the evening in a haze, pleading a headache to Petyr when he asked her to dance.

Sandor watched as she routinely hosted her party. She said and did all the right things but to his eyes, she seemed to be in a daze. Bronn and Margaery finally made their departure amidst a crowd of cheering guests. After they were gone, she approached Sandor. "Can you please do me a great favor?"

"Yes, anything," he replied.

"Can you please tend to the rest of the party? I'd like to go to bed, I'm not feeling well."

"Yes, of course." He watched her leave the room, noting that she didn't bother saying goodnight to Petyr or Agnes.

Agnes played the host for the remainder of the evening. Since the bridal couple had left, the party was winding down and after an hour most of the guests had gone. Petyr approached him. "Where is Sansa?' he asked.

"She went to bed shortly after Bronn and Margaery left," Sandor informed him.

"Is she alright? She said she had a headache. I'll go check on her." He turned to go but Sandor blocked his way.

"She is in her bedroom. You are not going up there," he said firmly.

Agnes was standing next to her brother. "Of course, silly, you can't go up there," she said with a giggle. "I'll just go and check on her." She turned to leave the ballroom.

Sandor had a sudden recollection of the animated discussion the two of them had at the Christmas Ball after Petyr overheard his and Sansa's conversation. She had not appeared shocked by anything he was saying, only very concerned. "You're not going up there either," he said to her. "She is most likely sleeping and shouldn't be disturbed." He looked pointedly at them. "Goodnight and thank you for coming." He swept his hand toward the door, clearly indicating that they should leave.

Their carriage was brought around and Sandor watched them go. He then turned inside to see to the last few guests. When they had finally left he crept up the stairs. Mrs. Tyrell had retired hours ago and he could hear her snoring through the door as he passed. He was sleeping in Bronn's room that night. He paused outside Sansa's door and listened but didn't hear anything. After knocking lightly on the door, he waited a moment and was about to leave when he heard her voice quietly on the other side of the door. "Who is it?' she whispered.

"It's Sandor."

She opened the door a crack and peered out at him. "What do you want?" she asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You asked me that earlier, why do you assume I'm not alright?" she asked.

"I know you were on the balcony while I was speaking with Petyr. I know you heard what he said," he said gently.

Her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed into his arms. He pulled her inside her room and closed the door behind them. Leading her to a small sofa, he sat her down. She pressed her face into his shoulder, clutching at his jacket as she sobbed. He stroked her hair and held her, murmuring comforting words.

"I knew I couldn't trust him," she choked out. "Right from the start, before I even met him, there was something so strange about Agnes' initial visit. I didn't give it much thought as she's always been a little batty, but she must have known about Petyr's interest in the treasure." She pulled back and looked up at him. "He all but said he loved me, and I believed him. He said he wanted to marry me." She lay her head back on his shoulder. "I wanted the fairytale so much that I ignored my instincts, ignored that little voice in the back of my head that kept telling me not to trust him."

"Well, now you know. Before he got his hands on your wealth," he said quietly. "You still have your independence. You can tell him to go to the devil and don't have to deal with any worries about money like most women would have to."

She pulled away and looked up at him again. She wiped her eyes and tried to smile. "You're right. It's a good thing I found out now. Does he know that I was up there?"

"No, he doesn't."

She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "Why did you orchestrate that conversation between us during the Christmas Ball, knowing he was below and would hear us?"

He looked away guiltily. "I was trying to make him mad, so that he wouldn't want you anymore," he said quietly.

"You were trying to ruin my courtship?" she asked quietly.

"Yes." He turned to look at her. "I told you Littlebird. I love you and we belong together."

She only stared at him. "What about tonight's conversation? Why did you do that? Because you love me and we belong together?" she asked, beginning to get angry.

Recognizing that her anger was rising he said calmly, "Partly. Yes, I did it because I love you, and because I knew that he was going to hurt you and that he was being false. I suspected that he was after your wealth, just as you did. I didn't do it for the sole reason of removing him from your life for my benefit. I did it to protect you."

She continued to stare at him, and then laid her head again on his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief. "I hate it that you feel that you have to protect me, but I suppose I must confess that sometimes I need it. Thank you."

He didn't say anything, just hugged her tight. They sat like that for a few minutes, neither saying anything. He thought perhaps she had fallen asleep when she spoke. "I suppose you should go to your room now."

She then pulled away and stared up at him. He gazed at her face illuminated by the moonlight and his breath was stolen away by how beautiful she looked. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Will you be alright?" he asked gently.

She nodded wordlessly, still staring deeply into his eyes. It was all he could do not to kiss her. He was surprised when it was she who leaned forward and gently placed a kiss upon his lips. It was a brief connection and then she was gone, climbing back into her bed. "Goodnight Sandor," she whispered to him.

He stood and walked to the door. "Goodnight Sansa." He turned and walked out the door to Bronn's room across the hall. He left his evening clothes on the floor and climbed into bed but it was a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Sansa lay in her bed across the hall, staring at the moon through the window. She was trying to determine how she felt about everything she had learned tonight. She knew she despised Petyr, but what about Sandor? He must have known how vulnerable she was tonight. She would have succumbed to his advances so easily. Even now she desired his touch and it was all she could do to not creep across the hall and climb into his bed. She desperately wanted to feel loved and adored and he always did that when they were together. She would regret it in the morning, she knew, but she didn't allow herself to think that far in advance. He knew he could have had her, yet he resisted. It was she who had finally kissed him, but he didn't grip her to him as she had expected. He must have known it would only end up badly once again. She sighed and rolled over, away from the window, and closed her eyes, letting sleep sweep away her problems for a few hours.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once this story is finished, I will be updating Sleep Song. I hope everyone is liking this story so far. I'd love to hear all your thoughts, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I hope everyone had a good Valentine's Day with their own Sandor ;)
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr  
> tumblr.com/celticwanderer

Late the next morning, Sansa was supervising the cleanup of the house when there was a knock on the front door. She opened it to find Petyr standing on the verandah. She stiffened when she saw him but invited him in.

"How are you feeling my dear?" he asked, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. He looked at her with surprise as she avoided his lips and took his coat instead.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. Is that why you're dropping by?" she asked, leading him into the sitting room.

"Yes, I was a bit concerned since you didn't say goodnight before you went to bed last night. And you said you were suffering from a headache earlier."

"Yes, I had something on my mind, that was causing some worry," she murmured.

"I tried to see you before I left, but Clegane wouldn't let neither I nor Agnes up to your room. He quite rudely insisted that we leave, as a matter of fact," he said indignantly.

"And why did he do that?" she asked him.

"I'm certain I have no idea," he replied.

"Yes you do, and so do I," she snapped.

"My dear, what do you mean?" he asked nervously, worried that Sandor had told her about his confession and that she believed him. Well, he could easily turn that to his favor.

"You know very well," she said evenly.

"Dearest, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he replied calmly.

"Do you deny that you're only courting me for my money?" she asked bluntly.

He looked at her, affecting an expression of profound surprise and shock. "Of course I deny it! I care about you a great deal and am not interested in your money. I'm sure you know that I'm quite well off myself and am not in need of any money that you may have," he assured her.

"I did suspect that you were wealthy, but I'm beginning to think otherwise."

"You're beginning to think otherwise? Whatever would give you that idea?" he asked, doing his best to appear thoroughly baffled.

Looking him straight in the eye, she stated simply, "You."

He now was truly confused. "Sansa, what are you talking about?"

"I was on the upper terrace during your conversation with Sandor last night. I heard everything," she said, watching for his reaction.

The blood drained from his face and he felt sick. He had known how he would handle it if she had said that Sandor had told her, but she had heard it all straight from him. His mind worked feverishly, desperately trying to think of an explanation for what he had said. "My love, I only said those things to anger him. I'm sure you know there is no love lost between he and I, and I was only trying to get a rise out of him."

She rose and looked down at him. "I don't believe you. And I think you should go."

"Please sweetling, listen to me. I truly didn't mean anything I said. I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression, but..."

His pet name sent shivers down her spine."I would like you to leave now," she said interrupting him.

"I demand that you listen to me," he stated, refusing to rise from his seat.

"And I demand that you leave," she replied firmly.

"I am not leaving until we resolve this misunderstanding," he said, his voice rising. He heard a quiet cough behind him and turned to see Sandor standing in the doorway.

"I believe Miss Stark asked you to leave," he rasped. His scars twisted with his angry expression.

Petyr took one look at the anger burning in Sandor's eyes and decided not to press the issue any more today. Finally rising, he turned back to Sansa. "Please, my dear, give it some thought before you make any rash decisions. I'll come back in a few days and we can talk about it."

"I don't need to think about it. Good bye Petyr." She turned and swept out of the room, leaving through the door leading to the back hallway.

"Baelish," Sandor said, standing aside so that Petyr could pass.

He roughly brushed past Sandor and retrieving his coat from a couch in the foyer he quickly left the house, climbed into his waiting carriage and was gone. Sandor watched him leave and then went to the library, suspecting that he would find Sansa there. She was curled up in a chair, with a blanket pulled around her.

"Is he gone?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, kneeling by her chair and stroking her hair.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I thought he might not like what you had to say and would need some encouragement to leave, so I made sure I was around."

There wasn't a fire in the grate, so he quickly set about lighting one and soon a rosy glow settled over the chairs and sofas gathered around the fireplace. He sank into the chair next to hers.

"Sandor, I was wondering. Since Bronn's going to be gone for such a long time, would you mind staying on in the house with me?"

"Stay here? Just the two of us?" he asked, surprised that she would risk such an impropriety.

"Yes. Just the two of us. Oh, I know it isn't proper, but I don't care. I'd feel safer with you here. Especially now, with Petyr likely so angry with me. Both of us really."

"Yes, I'll stay, if that's what you want."

"Thank you," she said, looking at him gratefully.

He smiled back at her but was wondering in his mind how long it would be before she was mad at him again.

Petyr stormed in the front door of his house, shouting for Agnes. He quickly strode into the library and poured himself a large brandy. Agnes calmly walked in the door and saw him gulping the liquor.

"What is it Petyr?" she asked worried. Her usually flustered manner was nowhere in evidence, she was calm and very much in control.

"That damn Clegane! Ruined, it's all ruined!" he exclaimed, taking another gulp of his drink.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, still calm, but beginning to feel a sense of dread creeping over her.

Trying to catch his breath, he said to her, "Do you remember the conversation I overheard at the Christmas Ball between Clegane and Sansa?"

"Yes, but..."

"He knew I was below! He arranged it so that I would hear them. So that I would know about what happened between them!" he almost shouted.

Puzzled at what he was talking about, she asked, "But I don't see how..."

"Then last night, I foolishly told him that we're destitute and I'm only interested in her for her fortune..."

"But you said that even if he told her, she wouldn't believe him," she reminded him.

He looked Agnes straight in the eye. "He didn't have to. She was on the upper terrace. She heard everything."

The blood drained from her face. Trembling, she sank into a nearby chair. "How did you respond?"

"I tried to talk my way out of it, but she wouldn't listen. And then he showed up and told me to leave." He took another large gulp from his glass.

"Petyr, what are we going to do? She was our only hope," she said with despair.

"I know sister, I know." He poured himself another drink. "Do you know what upsets me the most? I was very much looking forward to breaking her. She's so strong willed and that moment when she fell completely beneath my control would have been so sweet. Now I shall never know it."

Agnes was lost in thought for a moment and said slowly, "Perhaps you still have a chance." She looked up at him, hope glimmering in her eyes. "Appeal to her romantic side. Tell her it was the money at first, but now you've discovered that you've fallen in love with her and can't live without her. Say you don't care about the fortune, that it's hers and always will be. Then when you marry her, you simply change your mind and take it for yourself. She'll belong to you and therefore will have no power to get it back.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "That just might work. I'll give her a few days before I go talk to her." He smiled to himself as he took another sip of his drink.

"Well don't wait too long. I'm going to have to let some more maids go this week. If I have to let many more go, I'll be doing the laundry myself."

"Can't you just fire the senior servants and hire new, young ones at a starting wage to save money?"

"You're only suggesting that because you've deflowered every maid we have and you want a fresh batch to prey upon," she said with disgust.

He laughed wickedly. "Oh sister, you know me too well. Who were you planning on dismissing?' he asked.

"Some of the chamber maids. We don't really need so many."

Taking another long sip of his drink he said, "I'll take care of it."

"You?" she asked surprised. "You've never taken part in any staffing functions before."

"Well, this time I shall. Let's begin right now. Send in the first one."

She stared at him suspiciously before leaving the room. A few minutes later there was a timid knock at the door. At his summons a young maid of about twenty entered. She bobbed a quick curtsey.

"You wished to see me sir?" she asked, clearly nervous at being summoned.

Petyr looked her up and down, trying to recall his previous encounter with her. He suddenly remembered, it was in his study. He smiled at the recollection. She had put up quite a struggle.

"What is your name, lass?" he asked.

She looked up at him with surprise, obviously startled that he didn't remember her name after what he had done to her. "Cecile, sir," she said, her face coloring.

His arousal was evident as he asked her to close the door behind her.

Ten minutes later he was buttoning his breeches as the young woman lay across a large desk, pulling down her torn skirts and quietly sobbing. Petyr had been rough with her, venting his frustrations with Sansa.

"Quit your blubbering," he snapped at her. "And get off my desk."

She slowly slid from the table and went to leave. She was almost at the door when he spoke. "By the way, you are discharged immediately. Pick up your final pay from the head housekeeper."

She stopped and turned her tear streaked face to him. "Discharged, sir?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, discharged. Pack your things and go," he said impatiently.

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, turning and leaving the library.

Agnes came in a few minutes later, her disapproval clear on her face. "Did you discharge her?" she asked.

"Yes, I did," he said with a wicked grin.

"Shall I send in the next one?" she asked, not looking at him.

He took a sip of his drink before replying. "Give me an hour before the next." He took out a cigar and lit it.

She glared at him before sweeping out of the room. Petyr tipped his head back and blew the smoke at the ceiling. He was very much looking forward to the remainder of the afternoon.

Sansa was running down a dark hallway. Someone was chasing her, but she didn't know who it was. Blindly, she stumbled along trying to keep her mounting terror in check, when upon turning a corner, she saw a light up ahead. Silhouetted against it was a man. He was tall, with broad shoulders, his hair went doen to his shoulders and she somehow knew that he represented safety. She ran towards him and fell into his strong arms. Her pursuer disappeared into the shadows behind her as she looked up into dark grey eyes. She suddenly bolted awake from the dream. She was lying on the couch in the library, covered with a blanket. Sandor looked over at her from the billiards table where he was playing by himself.

"Are you alright?" he asked, coming and sitting beside her.

She looked up at him, momentarily confused. "Yes, yes, I think so. Just a strange dream," she said shaking her head. "I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. What time is it?"

He glanced at the clock over the mantle. "It's almost one. You've been asleep for a couple of hours."

"Bronn and Margaery haven't come back, have they?" she asked, sitting up.

Sandor rose from beside her and walked back over to the billiards table. Chuckling he said, "I don't think we'll see them until this evening, or perhaps even tomorrow morning."

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Practicing. If I'm to be living with you I had better improve my game," he replied, teasing her.

"Why? Would your tender male ego be bruised if I continually beat you?' she asked, teasing him back. "Don't worry, I'll let you win every now and then."

"May I remind you, I won fair and square last time?" he asked indignantly.

She laughed. "There was nothing fair or square about that game."

He looked down at her skirts and spoke in a low voice. "Yes, you're right."

She walked over to the cue cabinet and removed one. "How about we play again? No tricks or distractions this time?"

Leaning on his cue, he asked, "What shall we play for?"

"I'm feeling rather confident today. How about the same stakes? We play to 30 and if I win, you have to stop calling me Littlebird, and if you somehow manage to win, I will kiss you."

"Sounds good. Ladies first," he said setting up the balls for her.

They played seriously, without taunting or distracting each other. The game was tied at 29 as she bent to take her shot. She neatly scored a winner, raising her score to 30 and winning the game. She laid her pool cue across the table and Sandor momentarily hung his head.

"Well it looks like you've finally gotten your wish, my dear Sansa," he said to her.

She approached him, and looking up into his eyes, she replied, "I don't want you to stop calling me Littlebird. I've grown rather accustomed to it."

He took her arm and gently pulled her to him. "Well if you forfeit your prize, does that mean I get to claim mine?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Since we're playing so fairly..." His lips captured hers before she was able to finish her sentence. She immediately fell into the kiss, running her fingers into his hair and pressing against him. He pulled the pins from her hair and it cascaded down her back like a waterfall of fire. He gripped her tightly as the kiss deepened. His body was aching for her but he knew better than to take her upstairs. He was certain that she wouldn't resist, but a voice in his head spoke through the whirl of passion and warned him that she would only be angry with him again after. He gently pulled away from her, smoothing her loose hair back from her face and peering at her through his own hair, hanging in his eyes. He could see the passion and desire clouding her eyes.

"Don't stop," she murmured, turning her face up to his, offering her lips to him..

He swallowed hard and stepped back from her. "No, we had better stop or things will go too far," he whispered to her.

She opened her eyes and blinked several times. The clouds in her eyes cleared and she stared at him. Looking away she said in an unsteady voice, "Yes, I suppose you're right." She stepped away from him and went back to the couch where she slowly sank down.

Sandor chuckled as he pulled his hair back. "If you continue to forfeit your prizes I may not bother improving my game."

"I'll make sure to ask for something I really want next time," she said with a smile.

"And what would that be?"

"I'm not sure yet," she said thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about it."

By nightfall, Bronn and Margaery still hadn't returned to the house and Sandor again spent the night in the room across the hall. Knowing that she was just a few feet away kept him from sleeping easily that night. He didn't know, of course, that she tossed and turned for a good hour as well before finally drifting into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, Sansa sat in the sitting room staring into her cup of coffee, when she heard horses out front. A few minutes later Bronn and Margaery stumbled in the front door, laughing and kissing.

"Well good morning, you two," she called out to them.

"Morning, Sansa," they replied in unison, smiling broadly, walking into the room. They fell into a chair together, Margaery sitting on her new husband's lap. They began kissing again as if she weren't in the room.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not sure if she should leave them alone or not.

"Well, well, you two certainly are a happy pair of newlyweds." Sandor was striding into the room laughing at the young couple. They both smiled up at him, Margaery blushing.

"Thank you for the use of your home, Sandor," Bronn said.

"Think nothing of it. It is your house after all," he smiled back at him.

"Well, you can go back now and get out of Sansa's hair. I'm sure she's looking forward to having the house to herself finally."

"Actually, I've asked him to stay here while you're gone," she said.

Bronn and Margaery both looked at her with surprise. "Are you sure that's wise? What will Petyr think?" Bronn asked.

She stood and walked to the front window. Looking out, she said in quiet voice, "It's over with Petyr. I discovered some rather upsetting things about him and have since ended it with him."

Bronn came up behind her and put his arm about her shoulders, giving her a sympathetic squeeze. "I'm sorry, las."

"Thank you, but it's alright. At least I found out now and not later when it may have been too late to do anything about it," she said with forced cheer. "So, when do you leave?"

"In two days, Thursday. We haven't even begun to pack!" Margaery exclaimed. "I'm so excited about the trip. I've never really been anywhere before."

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time," Sansa said with a smile.

"This time you can sit back and relax and watch all the sailors doing the hard work and not have to get in there with them," Sandor said.

"Sometimes I miss working on the ship," Bronn said. "But with her by my side, I won't be tempted. She's all the temptation I can handle." He gave her a quick kiss.

They soon left to Margaery's grandmother's home so that she could pack for their honeymoon. Sansa and Sandor were still in the sitting room, enjoying a late breakfast.

"Do you miss being on your ship?" Sansa asked him.

"Not really. I'm used to spending months at a time away from her."

"Do you miss Liverpool?"

"I little bit. I had some friends there that I miss, but I would rather be here with you than back there with them," he said smiling at her. "Do you miss it?"

"I miss the familiarity of it. Not as much anymore, because I'm used to it here now. And of course I miss Jeyne terribly. But I guess what I really miss is just my life before Father died and before Joffrey. When we had money and it was just Jeyne and I enjoying ourselves, being young and carefree."

"But look at what you have now. You have a house, land, wealth. Even if your money in Liverpool hadn't all been lost, you wouldn't have all this. You'd be looking for a husband to provide that for you."

"If things had stayed the same in Liverpool, I'd be looking for a husband to provide me with love. That's all I ever really wanted," she said wistfully.

He almost pressed the point that that was what he was offering her, but decided against it. He would let it rest for now.

"I'm going to go back to the house and collect my things. I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said wiping his mouth and picking up his dishes to take to the kitchen.

"I'll come with you if you don't mind. I should take away the wedding night decorations."

Half an hour later they were riding out to the small house in the cart. "When do you think you'll be able to begin the expansion?" she asked, huddling in her winter coat.

"Well, I'll have to wait until the weather gets a bit warmer. With all the rain here during winter it wouldn't be a good time to start. So I guess it will be in the spring."

"Probably before Bronn gets back. Have you two talked about what he wants done, or rather what Margaery wants done?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes, we've gone over that. I have a fairly good sense of their wishes."

"Can I help?" she asked.

He looked at her with surprise. "Well I guess so. I didn't think you would be interested."

"Well of course I'm interested," she replied as they pulled up outside the out-building.

He helped her down and said, "I think I can find something for you to do."

They walked inside and looked about. The young couple had left the house very neat and tidy. The romantic decorations were still up, along with the vases of flowers. She fingered one of the blooms. "I should have figured out a way to bring these back to the house. They're so pretty and were rather expensive, it seems a shame to just leave them here."

"We'll figure something out," Sandor said, pulling out his large trunk. "Should we leave all the furniture here or take it back to the house?"

"Oh I think it should be fine to leave it all here, don't you think?" she said, walking into the bedroom. She was pulling down the lace canopy from over the bed when a hole in the weave caught on the top of one of the tall posts. She tried to flip it off but it was too high.

"Sandor, could you help me with this?" she called out.

He came to the door of the bedroom and standing in the doorway watched her struggle with the large piece of delicate fabric. "I've always dreamed of you calling to me from a bedroom, but was hoping for a more romantic scene," he remarked.

She tried to give him a stern look, but couldn't help but smile, glancing up a the caught piece of lace. He walked up behind her, standing so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.

She drew in a shaky breath. "Could you help me get this down, please?" she asked quietly.

He lifted his arms around her and neatly flicked the sheet of lace and released it from the bed post. As it gently floated down to the bed, he slowly lowered his arms, wrapping them around her. He nuzzled the back of her neck, burying his nose in her hair, drawing in deep the fresh, sweet scent of her. He pulled her close and just held her, enjoying the feeling of her close to him. "You asked me earlier if I missed being on my ship and I said no. That wasn't entirely true," he said softly in her ear.

"You do miss it?" she asked with a slight tremor to her voice.

"I miss being on it with you. Even though we spent half the time angry with each other, it was the best crossing I've ever experienced. I miss having you close. I miss seeing you in my bed, lying there asleep, your hair fanned out about you. I miss falling asleep and waking up with you in my arms. Seeing you every morning and every night. Do you miss any of it?"

"I try not to think about it," she replied in a whisper. "Well, when you've moved into the house you'll see me every morning and every night."

"But not in my bed," he said.

"No, not in your bed," she said pulling out of his arms. She reached for the lace sheet and began to fold it. He stood back and watched her for a moment before turning to the bureau and emptying the drawers into his trunk.

He piled his belongings and some items from the house into the cart. They managed to wedge the vases of flowers in between items and headed back to the house.

"Are you sure you want me there, across the hall from you?" he asked her.

"Yes, why not?"

"Well, perhaps you would prefer me on another floor. We could easily turn the music room into a bedroom."

"No, I would prefer to have you close by. Are you uncomfortable being so close? Maybe you'd rather sleep in the other bedroom?" she suggested.

"No, I guess Bronn's room is fine. It is bigger isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Why did you ask if I wanted you across the hall?"

"Well, rumors are going to circulate having me in the house in the first place, and right across the hall from you, well tongues are really going to wag."

"No one will know where in the house you're sleeping and even if they do know, I don't care what people think of me. I spent too much time in Liverpool worried about what I said, did or even wore, scared that someone wouldn't approve. I shall do what I please now, and it pleases me to have you living with me, sleeping across the hall."

Pulling up outside the house, he said as he helped her down, "I'm glad it pleases you. I'm certainly pleased as well."

They began to carry the items inside, setting up the vases of flowers throughout the house. Sandor hauled his large trunk upstairs but would have to wait until Bronn emptied the wardrobe and bureau before he could unpack. He walked across the hall to Sansa's room where she was arranging a particularly large bouquet of flowers. He watched her for a few moments as she was silhouetted against the dying light coming through the window. He knocked on the door. "Am I allowed in?" he asked.

"If you promise to behave," she said with a smile.

"You already know about me and my promises to behave around you," he warned her in a suggestive voice.

"Yes, I do," she said, finishing with the flowers. "I'm finished in here for now. There is something I would like to talk to you about. Downstairs." She picked up a lantern and after lighting it, walked past him in the doorway and began to make her way down the hall.

They settled in the library, and after Sandor built a fire, keeping as much distance from the flames as he could. Sansa noticed, and it almost made her want to cry, but she pulled herself together, and hesitantly said, "I'd like to talk to you about the way we...tend to...behave...around each other."

"The way we tend to behave? What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.

"Well, quite frankly, the way we tend to end up in each other's arms or sometimes... in bed together," she replied. "If you are to live here, that cannot happen."

"But it's so pleasant when it does. Do you not enjoy being in my arms, being in bed together?" he asked her quietly.

"Actually, I usually find it upsetting and confusing. Please, can you promise me it won't happen?" she pleaded.

"I can only promise to try on my part. Must I remind you that the times we have ended up in bed together, you were the instigator?" he said with a smirk.

She blushed, and reluctantly admitted that he was right. "But, you must do your part and not lead me towards that path. Which you must admit you do," she admonished.

"As I have said before, I can only try. You know how I feel about you and how tempting you are. And since I value my reputation for not breaking my promises, I only promise to try," he said.

She eyed him warily, wondering if that would be enough. Since she would rather have that than be alone in the house, she relented. "Alright, I can accept that."

"When will this promise come into effect?" he asked, rising from his chair.

"What do you mean, when will it come into effect? Don't promises come into effect the moment you make them?" she asked, as he approached her chair.

"Not necessarily," he said extending his hand to her.

Not sure what he was talking about she hesitated before allowing him to help her out of her chair. She stood before him, wondering what he was going to do.

"If I have to promise to try and behave myself, I would like to have a few moments before I am bound to that," he said softly, looking down into her eyes.

She suddenly realized what he meant, but before she could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. These were their last unrestrained moments together and she also took advantage.

Soon both their hair was released and flowing freely as they pressed against the other and kissed hungrily. Sandor suckled her bottom lip before she threw her head back, exposing her throat to him. He trailed his tongue up from the hollow at the base to the tip of her chin and buried his hand in her hair bringing her head back down so that he could kiss her again.

She tugged at his jacket and waistcoat, pulling his shirt out from underneath. She needed to feel his skin against her palms one last time. The buttons of his waistcoat were quickly undone and she sighed deeply as she slid her hands up under his shirt. His skin was warm and soft over the hard muscles beneath.

Taking his cue from her actions, he was soon tugging on the laces to her dress. He loosened them enough to pull it down over her shoulders and trailed his tongue along her flesh there, placing kisses along the way. His scars scratched against her skin. She moaned her pleasure and pulled off his coat and waistcoat, before pulling his shirt off over his head. She could feel his arousal pressing against her hip and gently pulled away. She trailed her fingers gently over his bare chest, trying to calm her breathing.

"Perhaps, now would be a good time for those promises to come into effect," she murmured breathlessly.

With great effort he let her pull away. He was moments away from scooping her up in his arms and carrying her upstairs. His eyes hungrily swept over her, her hair undone, the wild curls flowing over her shoulders, her breasts heaving beneath the loosened gown. He stepped towards her, running his hands along her bare shoulders. "One last time, Littlebird, just this one last time."

She stared into his eyes, knowing what pleasures awaited her. She knew how he could make her feel and she did want that. But at what cost? If she didn't expect anything from him in return, how could she get hurt, she thought. She could give into him now and then that would be the last time. Deciding the risk was worth the cost, she pressed herself against him. "Yes," she murmured against his mouth. "Take me upstairs."

He looked down into her eyes. "Are you sure? You won't be angry afterwards?"

"No. Take me, just take me," she breathed.

He captured her mouth again in a passionate kiss, tightly wrapping his arms around her. She expected him to pick her up and carry her up the stairs, but instead he walked her backwards until she was stopped by the billiards table. Breaking the kiss, he stared down at her breathlessly before turning her to face the table. Pressing on her back, he bent her over until her cheek rested against the smooth felt. Her skirts were quickly lifted and pantalets tugged down, fully exposing herself. Sansa lay against the table, barely able to catch her breath, her pulse racing as Sandor's strong hands caressed her soft flesh.

"Oh Sansa," he whispered, kneeling between her spread thighs, breathing in the musky scent of her. His large hands slid across her bottom, caressing the soft flesh, before sliding down her thighs to her knees and then back up again, tickling the sensitive insides of her legs. He smiled at her gasp as his fingers gently spread her before he tipped his head back and slowly slid his tongue through her soft folds.

Sansa's hands curled into fists, a small cry escaping her lips as Sandor's tongue sent her senses reeling. Oh, how was she to stay away from him when she knew he could make her feel this way? His fingers sought and quickly found the small nub nestled between her folds and her climax was almost immediate, her thighs clenching as she went up on her toes, her head rising from the soft felt of the table top, a loud cry piercing the air.

Suddenly Sandor pulled her upright, tugging on the already loosened laces of her gown, letting it pool around her feet. She quickly shed the remainder of her garments until she stood naked before him. His hands skimmed over her, barely touching her burning flesh, worshipping her with his eyes. Finally, pulling her to him, she sighed as she felt his bare chest press against her breasts, the slightly rough fabric of his breeches against her soft thighs as his lips pressed against hers before he again turned and pressed her down against the billiards table.

She readily spread her thighs and closing her eyes, imagined they were once again on his ship. The only thing missing was the cool night air against her naked flesh. With a sudden thought her eyes flew open. "Sandor," she spoke as his fingers were about to sweep away any chance of coherent thought.

"Yes, my dear," he purred.

"Can we...go out on the balcony?" she shyly asked.

"The balcony?" he asked, puzzled at her request. "Why do you want to go out there?"

"I want to feel the cool air on my skin, like I did on your ship," she replied, her cheeks flushing pink.

He chuckled at her request, "Alright, let's go. But put your shoes back on first."

Rising from the table she slid her feet into her shoes before Sandor picked her up in his arms and carried her from the room, up the stairs to the balcony off the ballroom.

Minutes later she was bent over clutching the stone railing as Sandor stood behind her, gripping her hips, driving into her. Sansa had her eyes closed, imagining they were on his ship, the night air cooling her heated flesh, transporting herself back to a time when it didn't matter what happened in the morning.

Bronn and Margaery arrived back at the house well after dark. After a quick inspection of the main floor they figured that Sandor and Sansa had gone to bed early.

"I guess we'll be sleeping in the guest room. Sandor will be in your room, won't he?" Margaery asked.

"Maybe he's still up," Bronn replied heading up the stairs.

They arrived upstairs and found both the guest room and his room empty. "Maybe he went back to the out-building," he said, before hearing a sound from across the hall. He crossed to Sansa's door and listened. He distinctly heard laughter, both Sansa's and Sandor's. He stared at the door surprised and confused. He couldn't believe they were in there together again. With a sigh he turned back to his room, shaking his head.

"What was it?" Margaery asked.

Hesitating, he said jerking his head towards the other room, "They're in there...together."

Margaery looked across the hall in surprise, her eyes wide. "Oh," she said in a small voice. A sudden gleeful shriek came from the other room and they both started.

Bronn looked at Margaery with hungry eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and tumbling backwards onto the bed, he said, "Come on, let's see if we can make more noise than them."

Sandor slowly drifted awake and was momentarily confused. It was still dark and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was. It was then that he noticed the sweep of coppery curls across his chest along with a slender arm. He gently pushed the hair out of Sansa's face and gazed down at her. She was back. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight and placed a kiss on her head. She murmured and hugged him back. She sleepily opened her eyes and looked up at him for a moment before giving him a lazy smile and then drifting back to sleep.

It was a gray morning, with wet snow spattering the windows when Sansa awoke. Her head was still resting on Sandor's shoulder and she sat up slightly and looked down at him. She had never awoken before him. Every morning on the ship he had already gone when she opened her eyes. She took this opportunity to examine him as he slept. She had always heard about how innocent and youthful people look when they sleep but he still looked just as manly and roguish. She gently ran her finger along his jaw feeling the roughness of his stubble. She leaned forward and trailed kisses down his neck and across his shoulder. She pulled the blanket back and began to kiss his chest. He moaned softly in his sleep and clumsily put his hand on her head. She felt his chest rise as he drew in a deep breath. She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him as his eyes fluttered open. He looked confused for a moment and then looked down at her.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied with a smile, pulling her up to him. He kissed her gently and she snuggled back against him. "Did you sleep well?' he asked, hugging her.

"Yes, I did, and you?"

"Yes. I awoke in the night to find you snuggled up to me. I can't tell you how much I missed that."

"Do you realize that this is the first time we've ever woken up together? On the Aurora you were always gone when I awoke."

"I didn't know what I was missing," he said, kissing her again. "Have those promises come into effect yet?" he asked, his hand sliding down her side under the blankets.

She sighed deeply, feeling a tingle begin in her belly at his touch. "Not quite yet," she whispered, reaching for him under the blankets as well.

An hour later, Sandor was slowly coming down the stairs when he heard a knock at the door. He was wearing only a loosely belted housecoat and was just going to ignore whoever it was when it opened and Petyr stood staring at him. His eyes swept over Sandor, taking in his loose hair, bare chest and legs and correctly guessing that he was wearing nothing else.

"What are you doing here?" Petyr asked him curtly.

Sandor contained his anger at the other man and calmly replied, "Going to make coffee," as he continued down the stairs and turned towards the kitchen. Over his shoulder he continued, "for Sansa and myself."

Petyr took a step into the house, rage bubbling up in his chest, when suddenly Sansa appeared on the upper level, also clad only in a housecoat, her hair in wild disarray. "Sandor, could you also bring...oh my goodness, Petyr!" she exclaimed, noticing him standing below. She backed away from the railing, clutching her thin garment more closely around her.

Petyr's gaze quickly flicked from her to Sandor and back again. "Well, I see you didn't waste any time did you?" he said snidely.

"I guess she wasn't that upset to lose you," Sandor replied, matching his tone.

The two men glared at each other for a moment, before Sansa finally spoke. "What do you want, Petyr?"

He tore his eyes from Sandor and looked up at her. "I came by to talk to you about the other night and to see if I could make you understand but I see that it's useless to try. You've obviously moved on," he said, his eyes flicking back to Sandor.

"It wouldn't have mattered whether Sandor was here or not," she said to him. "I know what I heard. Now, could you please go, and don't come back again."

He knew this was going to be his last chance. "But Sansa, please, can't we talk about this?" He glanced at Sandor before looking up at her again. "Please. Yes, it was the money at first, but I don't care about that anymore. I've come to realize that I love you, I can't live without you. You can keep the money, I don't want a penny of it, I just want you." He looked up at her with his most sincere expression.

She looked down at him, into his eyes. She could see the desperation there, but was there love as well? Was he being sincere? She looked at Sandor, who was glaring at Petyr with murderous eyes. Still clutching the robe tightly, she slowly came down the staircase. Petyr approached the foot of the stairs but she stopped halfway down when she could clearly see that he was lying. The desperation was still in his eyes but behind it all she could see was deceit. He didn't love her.

"Sandor, could you please bring some toast up with the coffee? Goodbye, Petyr."

She continued to stare at him and saw the desperation turn to a flame of anger. His hands balled into fists and he placed a foot on the bottom stair.

"You stupid girl." He started. "You really prefer this?" He motioned to Sandor's face. "He's a monster!"

Without hesitation, Sansa slapped Petyr. He put his hand where she struck him. "Get out of my house." She commanded.

Petyr opened his mouth to plead, but Sandor took a step forward and with a glance at him, Petyr turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. She slowly sank down to sit on the steps as Sandor rushed to her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

She nodded and looked up at him. "Thank you for being here. I wouldn't have wanted to face him alone."

"Seems like you would've been just fine of your own." He teased. 

Sansa smiled and they listened to the sound of his horse pounding down the drive before he stood and said to her softly, "Do you still want toast and coffee?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes, please," before standing herself and heading back up the stairs.

Sandor put the coffee and toast on a tray and carried it up the stairs. He was just about to open the door to Sansa's bedroom when the door to Bronn's opened. He had obviously just awoken. He was wearing a nightshirt with an open robe over it. His hair was sticking up and he squinted at Sandor. "Mornin' Sandor," he yawned, shuffling past him.

Smiling at his retreating figure, he replied, "Good morning, Bronn." The door was ajar and he called inside, "Good morning, Mrs. Reyne."

He heard her giggle and call out, "Good morning, Mr. Clegane."

With a chuckle, he opened the door to Sansa's room and entered with her breakfast.

"Are the newlyweds here?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied handing her a cup and a plate with her toast. "And this time Bronn was neither shocked nor angry to see me. Neither was Margaery as a matter of fact."

"I think he told her everything shortly after you arrived back," she said biting into her toast. "He had to confess that he and I aren't cousins so I think he just told her the whole story."

"How did he know the 'whole story'?" he asked her.

She looked at him sheepishly. "Because I told him."

He stared at her in surprise. "You told him?"

"Well, I needed someone to talk to and he was the only one that I could trust who wouldn't judge me," she pouted. Softening, she looked up at him. "You chose a good man to look after me in your absence."

"I'm glad it worked out so well, for both of you," he said, gently stroking her hair back from her face.

She stretched in the bed and sighed. "I want a bath, but I don't feel like hauling all that water up here," she said.

"I'll do it for you," he said, kissing her temple.

She clutched at his arm. "No, I want you to stay here." She slid back down into the bed and said wistfully, "I want a bunch of maids to appear with my big tub and buckets of steaming water and then you and I could take a bath together."

"Why don't you hire some maids, then? You can afford it. You shouldn't have to do all the work in this house yourself."

"You're right. Maybe I will, but in the meantime," she pulled the covers back and began to climb out of bed.

Sandor gently pushed her back and drew the blankets over her. "You stay here. I'll prepare your bath for you." He stood and began to dress. He pulled his shirt over his head and asked, "You don't happen to actually have a tub that big, do you?"

She smiled at him. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do."

He returned her smile and gave her a quick kiss. "Well then, I'll make sure to prepare enough water."

They both sat in the steaming water, she between his legs, her back pressing against his chest. Sandor was squeezing his fists in the water, causing it to spout into the air, much to her delight. Kissing her on the neck, he wrapped his arms around her. "So, when are these promises we talked about going to take affect?"

She let out a low grumble and tipping her head back onto his shoulder, she said, "How about tomorrow?"

"Why don't you just marry me, Littlebird? Then we don't have to worry about any promises."

She lifted her head and squeezed her fists in the water, trying to make it spout. "I'm not sure I'm quite ready to marry you yet," she replied. Unable to create any spouts, she asked, "How did you do that?"

"Yet?" he asked with a smile. "You mean, you might marry me someday?"

"Perhaps," she teased. "Show me how to make the water squirt up."

He moved her hands closer to the surface and she squealed with delight as the water spouted from her hands. He slid his hands around her waist and then up, cupping her breasts, pushing them higher until her nipples emerged from the water. The cool air caused them to harden immediately and he gently pinched the dark pink nubs. She let her hands sink into the water as she sighed happily, enjoying the feel of his hands on her breasts. Releasing one breast, his hand slid down over her stomach to between her thighs. Breathlessly, she parted her legs for him and his fingers slid lower, slipping through her soft folds. Sliding her hands along his thighs, her nails gently scratching him, she again tipped her head back against his shoulder, moaning with pleasure.

It was afternoon before they finally emerged, cleaned and dressed from her room. They were about to start down the stairs, when he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, his hands sliding lower, cupping her bottom as he placed a lingering kiss on her lips. "I wanted to get one more in before this grace period is up."


	24. Chapter 24

They descended the stairs and saw Bronn's trunks packed and sitting in the foyer. Piano music was coming from the music room so they turned that way and found Bronn and Margaery sitting side by side on the piano bench. Bronn looked up at them and continuing to play he said with a smile, "Well I see you two are finally up and about."

Sansa smiled shyly and blushed. Sandor wrapped an arm around her and hugged her to him.

Seeing them so affectionate, Margaery said happily, "Promise you won't get married until we get back, alright?"

Wriggling out of Sandor's embrace, she replied, "We're not getting married."

"Not yet at any rate," Sandor added with a smile.

Smiling and shaking her head, Sansa turned and walked out of the room.

Sandor watched her until she was out of site and then flopped onto a chair. "How am I going to get a ring on that woman's finger?"

"Have you asked her properly?" Margaery asked.

"I've asked her a dozen times," he said.

"But properly. The way Bronn asked me. With a ring, on bended knee?"

Sandor sat up. His mind flew back just a few days to his mock proposal in the library. "No, I haven't done it that way. Do you think that would work?"

Bronn laughed. "Quite frankly, Sandor, when she's ready to marry you, she'll tell you. I'd even wager that she'll be the one to propose."

Sansa walked up the stairs to her sewing room and looked down at the gown she was currently working on. She ran her hands over the soft velvet fabric without really seeing it. Did he really want to marry her? More importantly, did she want to marry him? She sighed, admitting to herself, that yes, more than anything she wanted to marry him. But could she trust him to not run away and leave her, to not hurt her? She was beginning to believe that he wouldn't, but she still couldn't be sure.

When the Aurora's repairs are done, that's when I'll know, she thought. Whether he stays or sails away the first chance he gets, then I'll have my answer. It's going to be awhile before that happens though. Approximately three months, she mentally calculated. Alone in this house with him for three months. And they were supposed to stay apart and not have another night like the one that had just passed. She wondered how long that would last.

The next day they stood on the dock and watched as Bronn and Margaery's ship set sail for England. They had a luxurious first class cabin and it was most likely going to be a very pleasant crossing. They waved at the ship until it vanished from sight and then turned and walked back to the carriage. Sandor climbed into the enclosed driver's cabin and extended his hand to help Sansa climb in.

They drove in silence for awhile both lost in their own thoughts.

"Well, I guess it's just the two of us now," Sandor rasped, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she replied looking out the window.

"Are you alright?" he asked, noting her melancholy mood.

"Oh yes, I'll be fine," she replied in a tremulous voice. "I just miss them already, I suppose."

He fought back the urge to put his arm around her and give her a reassuring hug. He had made a promise to her and was going to keep it. It was not going to be easy though, he thought to himself. He cast a quick glance at her and his pulse quickened as it did every time he looked at her. She was so beautiful he couldn't help it. And now he had her all to himself for three months. How the hell was he going to manage to keep his hands off her for that long? His mind suddenly went back to Margaery's words from the day before, 'Have you asked her properly?'. He glanced over at her again. Maybe that's what he should do, propose properly. He wasn't sure though. If she said no there was no way he could remain in the house and he certainly wasn't about to leave her all alone. He would wait until he was sure. He could do that.

"They'll be back before you know it," he said reassuringly. "Have you given any more thought to hiring some servants?"

"Yes, I have. I think I'll put a notice up at city hall in the next few days."

"How many?"

"Two or three should do it. The house isn't really that big."

"Have you ever thought about building a bigger one?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, of course. I'd like to have a family some day and will need a bigger one. Three bedrooms won't be enough. I've got plenty of time before that though."

"Would you like a big family?" he asked forcing himself to sound casual.

"Oh yes," she replied eagerly. "I was an only child and always wanted brothers and sisters. Of course, Jeyne is as close as a sister, but it's not quite the same thing." She turned to him. "Do you have any brothers or sisters? You've never mentioned anything about your family."

His face suddenly grew hard. "I did have an older brother."

Had? Sansa wondered. "What happened to him?" She asked solemnly.

He took a breath. "He did this to me." He pointed at the mass of scars on his face. Sansa looked at him, unable to hide the horrified expression on her face. "My parents abandoned me at an orphanage to avoid questions, They told everyone I died." 

"I'm so sorry, Sandor. I had no idea."

Unexpectedly, he continued. "I was turned out of the orphanage at fourteen and didn't have anywhere to go or any idea what to do. I ended up in Liverpool and got a job as a sailor on a ship and realized it was something I was good at. I worked my way up quickly and saved every penny I made until I was able to buy my own ship. Made my own fortune. I'm a completely self-made man."

"Well, that's something to be proud of," she said encouragingly.

"I am proud of it. Now I just need someone to share it with," he said glancing at her.

She looked down at her hands and didn't say anything.

That night after they had eaten, they sat in the library. She kept looking over at him, until he finally looked up from his book. "What?" he said.

"I'm just so surprised to know something about you. You know almost everything about me but today was the first time I actually learned something about you. I never realized before that I didn't know any of your history."

He stared into the fire, the hard look returning to his face. "My history doesn't matter. All that matters to me is now and the future. But I'm only looking as far forward as the next three months."

When your ship will be repaired, she thought. She swallowed nervously. "And then what?" she asked, trying not to sound anxious.

"Then we'll see," he said returning to his book.

"Oh," she said quietly. She looked down at her book without seeing the pages.

"After that Bronn and Margaery will be back, so you won't need me here anymore," he said.

"They'll be living in their own house, though. And maybe I will need you," she said haltingly, still staring blankly at her book.

He glanced over at her. "Like I said, we'll see."

She lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. He's only looking as far ahead as the next three months, she thought. She sighed, knowing that she had made the right decision in waiting until his ship was repaired to see what he would do. What his true intentions were. But a small part of her was disappointed. She wished he had said he was staying, that he had no intentions of leaving her. But she realized she was being selfish. She wanted him to continue professing his undying love for her until it suited her to reply likewise. He might get tired of waiting for her and leave as soon as he gets the chance, having already given up on her.

She rolled over on her side and stared out the window. What was she going to do? She slid her hand under her pillow until her fingers touched the aegirine pendant. Pulling it out, she watched as it glowed in the moonlight. So much like his eyes. She would just have to see how things went, decide as she went along. Trust her instincts to tell her when it was finally safe to give in. Her closed her fingers around the stone and she shut her eyes.

A few days later as Sandor was reading in the library, she entered wearing her riding habit.

"Where are you going?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Into to town, to post the notice for the maids," she replied pulling on her gloves. "I shan't be long."

He put down his book and rose. "Would you like me to come with you?"

"It's not necessary, but if you like, you're welcome to come. Actually, Bronn's horse, Stranger, could use some exercise."

"I'll see if I can find something that passes for riding clothes," he said, heading upstairs to change.

A few minutes later he came back wearing an old pair of rough woolen breeches, boots and a heavy overcoat covering his shirt, waistcoat and frock coat. She pressed her lips together to prevent from laughing. Noting her struggles, he said dryly, "Perhaps you can make me a more suitable riding outfit."

"Oh Sandor, I'm sorry, it's just that I thought you most certainly would own riding clothes."

"I do. I just didn't think to bring them with me," he said, patiently. "Shall we go?'

She was still giggling as they saddled the horses and led them out of the stables. "Maybe you should hire a groom to look after the horses," he suggested.

"I'm afraid I only have three rooms available for servants to sleep in, since I took over two of them for my sewing rooms." She turned and surveyed the small building where the horses were kept. "Although we could build some quarters onto the stables themselves."

"What do you think?"

"Certainly, and in about three months you can hire a groom."

She swung herself into the saddle. "Three months, three months. I'm sick to death of hearing about three months. Everything is in three months. Work on the out-building can't be started for another three months, I can hire a groom in three months, this rain won't stop for another three months, and..." she trailed off. She was going to add that his ship was going to be repaired in three months and then he'd be gone but she stopped.

"And what?' he asked, knowing that his ship would be on that three month list.

"Nothing," she said quietly.

They rode in silence for a while. "Where will you post the notice?" he asked.

"The town hall has a notice board," she replied. "That's where we found the posting for the farm."

They arrived at the town hall and tied their horses out front. Sandor received a few strange glances as they entered but he held his head high and ignored them. They made their way to the board and pinned up the notice.

"Did you want to do anything else while we're here?" he asked.

"I was thinking of going to see Margaery's grandmother over at the mercantile. Did you want to come along?"

"Yes, but not right away, there's something I want to do first. I'll see you there."

They parted ways outside the hall and she watched him walk off down the street, wondering where he was going. She shrugged and turned towards the mercantile, looking forward to the visit.

Sandor walked quickly down the street, looking over his shoulder to see that she wasn't watching him. Seeing that she was indeed gone, he slipped inside the goldsmiths.

Sansa and Mrs. Tyrell were perusing the store's selection of patterns for men's riding costumes when Sandor returned.

"You really will sew me some riding clothes?" he asked, obviously pleased.

"Certainly, I have a lovely dotted pink silk damask that will look so pretty on you," she said laughing. "I think I have some nice somber black for you," she said to mollify him.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be black," he replied, pretending to be hurt.

To Mrs. Tyrell, Sansa said in a loud whisper, "Sandor only wears black."

"Perhaps then, you should make him something with just a bit of color, to ease him out of it," she suggested. "Maybe a colorful stripe down the outside of the leg? Or even on the cuffs and lapels?" she said turning to Sandor.

"What do you think?" Sansa asked him.

"I think I could do that," he said smiling. "Just no pink," he commanded, attempting to look stern.

They were riding back to the farm when Sansa, trying to sound casual, asked, "Were you able to do what you wanted earlier?"

He glanced at her and said just as casually, "Yes, I wanted to go see the ship. See how she's doing."

"And, how is the Aurora?" she asked.

"Fine. It hurts though, seeing her with her deck all ripped up and the masts reduced to charred stumps."

"Once the repairs are done, she'll be back to her grand self," she said reassuringly.

"Yes, she will," he said quietly.

They arrived back at the house and as they were unsaddling their horses, Sandor noticed a door at one end of the stable.

"What's through there?' he asked.

"I guess it would have been a tack room," she replied. "We only have the three horses, so we don't really use it as such."

He headed towards the door, "May I?" he asked.

"Certainly," she replied, wondering at his curiosity.

He opened the door onto a rather large room, complete with a stove and water pump. "Why with a little bit of work, this could work out as a groom's quarters quite nicely. Another tack room could be built inside the stable, since you don't need all these stalls." He turned to her. "What do you think?"

"Could you do all that?" she asked.

"Of course, and I could do it now, since it's all inside. Not three months from now, my impatient little Littlebird."

"Why that would be wonderful," she said. "When could you begin?"

"Almost right away." He surveyed the stables and the tack room. "There are some supplies I'll need, but lumber will be foremost of course. I'll go back into town tomorrow and check things out." He turned to her with a humorous glint to his eye. "Then of course there is the matter of my fee."

"Your fee?" she said momentarily shocked, until she realized he was only joking. "You can just take it off your rent," she answered.

"Rent?" he answered. "I was going to charge you a fee for protection!"

"Protection? From what? The only protection I need is from you!" she said, eyeing him suspiciously, and trying desperately not to laugh.

"Me?" he asked, still playing the game. He approached her, and stroked her hair back. "Now why would you need protection from me?" he asked quietly.

At his touch, her heart lurched and a tingle shot down her spine, causing her to shiver. She looked up into his eyes and saw the humor still there but something warmer and more tantalizing lay behind it. She searched her mind for a witty comeback but came up blank. She was consumed by his eyes and was unable to think of anything else. With great effort she tore her gaze away and stumbled away from him. "Do whatever you need to do here," she murmured.

She turned and almost ran to the house and immediately went up to her sewing room. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. His warm eyes danced before her and the night and morning she had recently spent with him came crashing back into her mind with exquisite clarity. She needed something else to occupy her thoughts. Casting her unfinished dress aside she began to dig through her fabric, looking for something suitable for Sandor. She found a wonderful black wool and a heavy deep burgundy silk. She liked Mrs. Tyrell's idea of colored cuffs and lapels and set to work.

After a few hours upstairs she came down and found him again in the library. He looked up as she entered. "How are my new clothes coming?' he asked with a smile.

"Can I borrow some items of yours? I need them for measurements."

"Measurements?" He stood and stretching out his arms, he asked with mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Why not just measure me?"

She looked at him warily. "I think it would be best if I could just use some of your clothes."

He lowered his arms and replied, still smiling, "Very well, take whatever you need." She was almost out of the room, when he called out, "By the way, what colors are you using?"

She turned and said quite innocently, "I told you at the store. The lovely spotted pink silk damask. And as Mrs. Tyrell's suggested, with a bit of black trim."

He stared at her, not sure if she was joking or not. "You better not, because I won't wear it, and I would hate to see you go through all that trouble for nothing."

She began to laugh and replied, "If you want to know what your new clothes will look like, you'll just have to come up and see for yourself." She turned and walked out of the room and started up the steps. She went into his room and opened the wardrobe. She didn't know how long she would require the items and didn't want to take anything he might need. She returned to the hallway and called for him. He came out of the library and stood in the foyer looking up at her.

"Could you come up here please?" she asked. "I don't know which clothes of yours I can take."

He quickly came up the stairs and passing her on the landing, he said with a suggestive gleam in his eye, "Are you saying that you require my assistance in my bedroom?"

She gave him a patient stare. "Yes, Sandor, that is exactly what I am saying. Now show me what I can take," she said following him into the room.

He handed her a few items and then followed her upstairs. He looked over the fabric she had chosen for him and was very pleased. "This is going to look wonderful. Thank you so much, Littlebird."

"You like the burgundy?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Good, now get out so I can get to work," she said pushing him out.

She worked until the light outside died and then returned down stairs.

"Giving up already?" he asked as she sank into one of the chairs in the library.

"Yes, I've given up. You must buy your clothes from the tailor in town," she said with a chuckle. She sighed and sat up. "I suppose I should go make us some dinner."

She was about to rise when he said quite casually, "No need. I've already started."

"You?" she said staring at him with astonishment. "Very funny," she said dryly, assuming that he was joking. She walked into the kitchen and was met by the most wonderful aromas. There was a chicken in the oven, and several pots on the stove top. She turned and saw him standing in the doorway. "You did this?" she asked.

"Yes. I am capable of cooking, you know," he said, acting as if she had hurt his feelings. "It was my first job on a ship."

"I must say, you're a man of many talents, Mr. Clegane. Tell me, will you be cooking all of our meals from now on?"

"No, I think you should hire a cook."

"Is that a comment about my cooking?" she asked indignantly.

"Well, my dear, let me just say that it is quite obvious that you grew up living a life of leisure."

"Are you implying that I cannot cook?"

He looked at her and wincing, he said, "I refuse to answer that. Especially in a room full of knives."

"Why you...!" she cried, stepping towards him. Her eyes were flashing, but she also saw the humor in the situation. She playfully slapped him on the arm and then danced out of his reach when he made to retaliate.

The dinner was indeed delicious and Sansa grimly realized that her own cooking skills were lacking. Bronn had been tactful enough not to say anything.

The next morning, after breakfast, Sandor announced that he was going into town to purchase the materials needed for the renovations to the stables.

"I'll write you a letter so that you can open an account in my name at the lumber mill and hardware store," she said, about to fetch some ink and paper.

"No need, I'll pay for it," he replied. Seeing her surprised expression he said, "You're not the only one with money around here." He turned and walked out the door. She was up in her sewing room when she saw him leaving in the cart.

After about an hour she heard a horse out front and looked out the window expecting to see Sandor returning. Instead it was a hired coach from town. Curious as to who it could be, she went downstairs. She opened the door and saw a young woman coming up the stairs.

"Hello. Are you Sansa Stark?" she asked.

Assuming she was there in answer to the job posting, she replied," Yes, I am. Have you come about the position?"

"Yes ma'am, I have."

"Well, come in then." As the young woman passed her in the doorway, Sansa was certain she had seen her before, but couldn't place her. Must be just about town, she thought.

"It won't take long will it, ma'am? I can't afford to keep the coach waiting too long."

"Oh don't worry about that. I'll pay for it."

"Oh, thank you," she said. She was clearly nervous as she looked about the foyer.

"What is your name?" Sansa asked her, leading her into the sitting room.

"Cecile."

"Well Cecile, why don't you tell me about other places you've worked."

They chatted for quite some time and Sansa immediately felt comfortable with her. Cecile told her that she had been caring for her grandmother who had been ill which is why she hadn't worked anywhere for the last six months. She announced that her grandmother was better and she was once again seeking a position.

"Do you live here alone?" Cecile asked her.

"No, there is one other," Sansa replied, not wanting to admit right away that she was living with a man.

"Your husband?" the young woman asked.

"No, not my husband," Sansa replied wanting to wait until later to explain her relationship with Sandor.

Cecile suddenly seemed nervous as she asked, "Do you do much entertaining?"

"Entertaining?" she asked, puzzled by the question.

"Yes, such as having the neighbors over for dinner, or lunch." Cecile clearly was nervous asking these questions which puzzled Sansa even more.

Suddenly recalling that her neighbors were the Baelish's she answered, "No, the neighbors won't be coming over. You won't be expected to perform any kitchen duties, if that's what you're concerned about," she added.

Cecile stared at her for a moment and then suddenly smiled. "Yes, ma'am that is what I was worried about. I don't much care for kitchen work."

"Well, Cecile, you seem like a very nice, capable, and sensible young woman and I would love to have you as a maid. When would you be able to start?"

"Oh thank you ma'am. I could start this afternoon, if you like. I just need to return home and fetch my things."

"No need to jump into things so quickly. Tomorrow will be fine, although if you would like to come back this afternoon, you could get yourself settled." Sansa rose and began walking towards the front door. "I'll show you out and pay for your carriage."

After Cecile had gone, it was still niggling at the back of her mind where she had seen her before. She shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts and went upstairs to resume her work on Sandor's riding suit.

A short while later she heard him pull up and looking out the window, she saw the he had bought quite a lot of supplies. She watched as he drove the cart around to the stable and a few minutes later he walked into her sewing room.

"How's my suit?" he asked, looking at what she was doing.

"It's coming along just fine," she replied. Smiling, she announced, "I hired a maid today. Her name is Cecile, she starts tomorrow."

"Good for you," he said. "Ah, breakfast in bed every morning."

"You will have to hire a man servant if you wish that. Being the mistress of the house, only I will have breakfast in bed every morning."

"Wonderful, I will breakfast with you then," he said happily.

She shot him a sideways glance, and smiling and shaking her head, she returned to her task, not even bothering to respond.

He just chuckled at her. "I'm going to go and get started on the stables. I'll see you later."

Later that afternoon, Cecile returned and Sansa greeted her at the door. She took one of the girl's bags and said, "I'll show you to your room. It's a little tricky at first, but you'll get used to it in no time. You don't mind attics do you?" she asked over her shoulder as they climbed the first set of stairs.

"No, ma'am. That's where most maids sleep."

They stood outside of Sansa's door and she showed Cecile where to press to open the panel revealing the staircase. Sansa could see the surprise and delight on her face.

"I've heard about these, but have never seen one before," she said, peering up into the darkness.

"I always keep a small lantern at either end to light the way," she said, picking one up. She lit it and they made their way up the stairs. They emerged into the light and turned towards the rooms at the front of the house. "There are five bedrooms here, but I've actually taken over two for sewing rooms, but you can choose between the remaining three."

She chose the one next to Sansa's sewing rooms and stowed her bags there. Sansa was looking out the window and saw Sandor coming in from the stables.

"Would you like to meet the other resident of the house?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I would." She had frankly been quite curious about the other resident. She had assumed that it would be a woman, perhaps a sister or even her mother.

They came down the stairs just as Sandor came in the front door. He stood looking up at them as they approached. "Cecile, I would like you to meet Sandor Clegane. He lives here as well. Sandor, this is the new maid, Cecile."

"Well, hello, Cecile. Welcome to Aurora, I hope you'll enjoy working here."

Cecile just stood and stared at Sandor with wide eyes. She almost appeared frightened. She took a step away from him. "Y-y-you live here, sir?" she stammered.

"Yes. I know it's a bit shocking that we live here together," Sansa began to explain, "But Mr. Clegane and I are old friends and I don't like living in this big house on my own, so as he's in town for awhile, he has agreed to keep me company."

Cecile was still staring at Sandor with great uncertainty. Finally, dropping her eyes, she said quietly, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." She turned to Sansa. "If it's alright, ma'am, I'd like to return upstairs and unpack."

"Certainly, do you need some help with the catch for the stairs?"

"No, ma'am. I think I can manage." She turned and hurried up the stairs.

Sandor and Sansa looked at each other. "Well, we certainly took her by surprise," she said. "She almost seemed frightened of you."

"Well, I am a very imposing man," he said, standing tall and looking imperious.

"Yes, of course you are," she replied, in a mocking tone.

Over the course of the next few days, as Cecile was getting her bearings in the house and her duties were being defined, Sansa began to grow fond of the girl, but was worried about her behavior towards Sandor. She appeared to be truly frightened of him. One evening, after Cecile had retired, Sansa and Sandor were sitting in the library.

"Sandor, what do you think of Cecile?" she asked him.

"I think she's doing a fine job. I don't see much of her though," he commented.

"Do you find anything odd about her behavior towards you?"

"Well, I didn't want to say anything but she does seem, well, almost frightened of me," he said.

"Do you think it could just be that she sees you as the master of the house and that's what makes her nervous?" she inquired.

"No, I've seen that look before in servants and she is actually scared. Maybe you should talk to her and find out," he suggested.

"Yes, I was planning to do that, I just wanted to know if you had noticed it as well."

The next morning, after Sandor had gone out to work in the stables, Sansa sat Cecile down and explained her and Sandor's concerns.

"We were just wondering why you seem so frightened of him," she said gently.

"He's a man, ma'am," she said not looking up from the table.

"Well, yes, but he's a very nice man. You have no cause to fear him."

"I know how men treat servants, especially maids," she replied, beginning to get upset.

"What do you mean? I can assure you that Mr. Clegane will only treat you with the utmost respect. He's not the type to ignore you and not say thank you or to not commend you on a job well done," Sansa assured her.

"That's not what I meant," she said quietly.

"Please, Cecile, what is it?"

She hesitated and then said in a small voice, "I'm afraid he'll hurt me."

"Hurt you? You mean physically? I know that in some households if servants make a mistake or break something, even by accident, that they get beaten, but neither I nor Mr..."

"That's not what I mean either, ma'am!" she cried.

Thoroughly confused, Sansa pleaded with her. "Please, speak plainly, what is it you're afraid of?"

Almost in tears, she twisted her hands, trying to bring herself to say the words. Suddenly Sansa realized what it was that she meant.

"Oh, Cecile. No. He would never lay a hand on you in that way. I can promise you that."

The distraught young woman looked up at Sansa, still worried.

"You will not be expected to tolerate that kind of treatment here. Mr. Clegane is a good man and will not touch you," she said gently. "Were you treated like that somewhere else?" she asked.

Cecile nodded her head. "Yes, ma'am, I was. I didn't tell you because I didn't think they would give me a reference, but it was at the Baelish's."

Sansa felt the blood drain from her face. "Petyr and Agnes Baelish?" she asked. She suddenly realized that that was where she had seen the young maid before. And why she had asked the puzzling questions about having the neighbors over for dinner.

Cecile again nodded. "He was terrible. He always urged his sister to hire young maids so that he could...well...he favored virgins, ma'am. He would use them for awhile, taking his pleasure when he desired and then sack them. That's what happened to me while I worked there." She looked up and saw Sansa stricken face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Sansa found she was having trouble breathing. She heard Cecile's voice as if from a distance, apologizing. "That's alright Cecile. You can return to your duties now," she said absently. "I need to speak with Mr. Clegane. Please excuse me." She rose and slowly walked out to the stables, forgetting to take her coat, not noticing the cold.

Sandor looked up when he saw her enter. "Hello Littlebird, what brings you..." he suddenly noticed her dazed expression and the fact that she wasn't wearing a coat. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" He guided her into the back of the stables, where it was a bit warmer. He wrapped a blanket around her and rubbed her arms, staring at her with concern.

She stared straight ahead. "Cecile is afraid of you because she's scared you might rape her," she said flatly.

"Rape her?" he asked, clearly horrified.

"She confessed that she had omitted a particular house from her list of previous employers because the man of that house treated his servants that way. He particularly liked virgins," she said, still staring straight ahead, her voice emotionless.

"My God, what kind of a man would do that?"

"It was the Baelish's," she said, her voice breaking. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "It was Petyr."

He stared at her a moment and then pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He closed his eyes, thankful that he had exposed Petyr and that she was no longer involved with him. "I was seriously considering marrying him," she said quietly. "Thank you, thank you so much," she murmured.

He loosened his hold on her, so that he could look at her. "For what?" he asked.

"For showing me what sort of a man he is, for getting me away from him."

He wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek. "I'm glad I was able to do that for you. However it happened, I'm glad you're not with him anymore," he said gently. And heaven help him the next time I see him, he thought.

"I assured her you would never do such a thing, so she shouldn't be scared of you anymore," she said. "And Sandor, any grooms or farm hands or any men that I hire on this farm, I want you to make it very clear to them that they are to treat the female servants with the utmost respect and courtesy. I know they sometimes behave in a rough manner and I don't want any of that going on. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, of course," he replied. "You must be freezing, and now that I've stopped working, I'm beginning to get a bit chilled as well. What do you say we go in the house and have some tea?"

"That sounds very nice." She stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. "Thank you, Sandor," she said, placing her hand on his arm. He wrapped his arm around her and they walked to the house.

He still had his arm around her as they entered the house. Cecile stood in the shadows just off the mezzanine and watched them. She wondered why Sansa had reacted so strangely to her confession about omitting the Baelish's from her list of experience. She had immediately gone and told Mr. Clegane. I'm going to get sacked, she thought fearfully as she continued to watch them.

"You're sure you're alright?" he asked her again.

She nodded and removed the blanket, placing it on the couch. She stood in the foyer and said to him, "You exposed him as a liar but I had no idea he really was so terrible. I can't believe he treated his maids like that. I know that in some big houses where there are lots of servants that some have affairs with the sons or even husbands who employ them, but to brutally rape the virgins in your employ? Oh, it's too terrible to think of," she said rubbing her face.

They began to walk into the sitting room, when Cecile heard her say, "I'm so glad we hired Cecile so that now she has a nice and decent place to work. I wonder if she knows any of the other maids that worked there. We still need two more."

"Why don't you ask her?" he suggested.

Cecile's heart soared. They weren't going to sack her! They were glad to be able to help her. For the first time in months she really felt good about things. When Sansa called for her, she happily ran to do whatever it was that she wanted.

Sansa asked Cecile about other maids that had been in the employ of the Baelish's and hired Tabitha and Sarah, both of whom were wary of Sandor until Cecile spoke with them, assuring them that they would be treated well at Aurora.

Sansa found that she enjoyed having servants in the house. Not only did it make for a busier atmosphere but she no longer had to do so much of the work herself and was able to relax and enjoy herself. She spent much of her time in her sewing rooms happily working on Sandor's riding outfit. She made Cecile her personal maid and enjoyed her company.

One morning she was helping Sansa work out some particularly nasty tangles in her hair. "I don't know how I managed so long without a maid, Cecile. You are truly a godsend," she said as she gently guided the comb through the knots.

"Oh, ma'am, it's nothing. I'm just glad to have a good position for a change. You and Mr. Clegane are my godsends. And I know that Tabitha and Sarah feel the same."

"Well you're all doing a wonderful job. I just feel dreadful for any girls still over at the Baelish's and for the new ones going in."

"I don't think there are any new ones, ma'am. Quite a few servants were sacked before me, but new ones weren't hired." She lowered her voice to conspiratorial whisper. "Quite frankly, I think they're having financial troubles over there." She nodded her head as if to confirm the point.

She recalled what Petyr had said the night of Bronn's wedding about being almost destitute. "Well, that's a good thing then that no more innocent girls will fall victim to him."

A week later, as Sansa and Sandor were enjoying a friendly game of billiards, she mentioned that his suit was coming along nicely and that when he had a chance she would like him to come up for a fitting.

"Certainly, my dear. Will I be required to entirely disrobe?" he asked, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

She shot him a sideways glance and said, "Well yes of course. Did I not mention that I'm making you underclothes as well?"

"Oh well, I didn't realize I would need special undergarments for riding a horse. I'm rather looking forward to this fitting." He walked up close to her and said in a low voice, trailing a finger along her arm, "We could go up right now and do it."

She shrugged off his hand and walked around the table, away from him. "Stop that," she said. "You're just trying to get out of finishing this game, because you know I'm going to win."

"Well, it was worth a try," he chuckled.

A month had passed since Sandor began working on the new groom's quarters and Sansa decided to see how things were progressing. He had been out there for a few hours and thinking he might be hungry she asked Cecile to prepare a lunch for them. It was a cold and blustery day in late-February, with the sun peeking out between the clouds now and again. She pulled on a warm cloak and walked out to the stables.

She entered and froze in her tracks, mesmerized by what she saw. Sandor had finished the new quarters and was now in the process of removing one of the stalls to begin the new tack room. He was tearing down one of the walls and didn't notice her enter. She stood in the shadows watching him.

He had removed his jacket and waistcoat and was clad in just his shirt, breeches and boots. His shirt was damp from his exertion and he paused to wipe his brow. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him strip off his shirt and undo the leather strap holding his hair back. He walked over to a bucket sitting beneath the water pump and picked it up. It was full of water and Sansa thought she might faint as she watched him lift it above his head and slowly pour the contents over himself.

She stared transfixed, as the water cascaded over his upturned face and down his neck, splashing onto his broad shoulders and raised arms, then flowing over his muscular, hairy chest and stomach to soak through his breeches, revealing his strong thighs. He dropped the bucket and shook his head, sending water droplets flying through the air. The sun broke through at that point, catching the drops, causing them to sparkle and flash as they soared past the window. He tipped his head back and slowly drew his fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face. He lowered his head back down and a few pieces of hair fell forward, framing his face.

It was cold in the stables, but his hard work had heated his body and now a light steam rose from him. Sansa had never seen anything so utterly masculine in her life and she found she could scarcely breath.

With the sunlight illuminating the stables, Sandor suddenly noticed her standing near the door. Even at that distance he could see the passion and desire burning in her eyes. Witty comments flew through his mind but he didn't dare speak and break the spell that she was under. He slowly walked towards her, dripping water, the light steam still rising from him. He ran his hands over his slick chest and stomach and shook them at his side, casting off the excess water.

She suddenly found her breath and it burst through her lips in gasps. Her heart pounded as he approached and stood before her. His body glistened in the sunlight and she visually caressed each muscle until her eyes reached his face.

His warm grey eyes immediately drew her in. She could think of nothing except him, the way he was at this moment, and that she wanted him desperately. Before she knew what she was doing, her hands pressed against the warmth of his chest. She traced the muscles there and slid her palms over his ribs. He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her face up to his. They stared into each others eyes and she whispered, "I want you Sandor. Now, here."

She impulsively reached up and pulled his wet face down to hers pressing her lips to his. She pressed her body against him, not caring that he was wet. Her hands slid down his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath her palms. He gently pushed her away and stared down into her eyes, the glowing sapphire glazed with passion. "What about our promises?" he asked, his voice raw with his own desire.

"To hell with the promises," she said recklessly. "I knew we'd never be able to keep them." She stood on her toes and ran her tongue up his neck to his chin. He tipped his face down to hers and their lips hungrily met again.

He slid her cloak off her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him, wetting her gown. His lips burned into hers and she threw her head back with a moan. The tip of his tongue slid down the length of her throat and he nuzzled the hollow at the base. He began to pull at the laces on her dress and soon had it sufficiently loosened that he could tug it down exposing her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. His hands reached for the soft flesh and she sighed with delight.

 

He pulled her back away from the door and tugged on her laces again, this time causing her gown to fall to the ground around her feet. The wetness from his body had soaked through the fabric of her dress causing the silk of her chemise to become transparent and cling to her. He stared at her full breasts, heaving beneath the thin fabric, the erect nipples straining against the delicate silk.

His large hands cupped her breasts, gently squeezing them, his fingers tweaking the hard nipples as his lips again covered hers. Gently he pulled the fabric away from her and his flesh connected with hers, sending licks of fire through her veins. Lowering his head, he trailed his lips over her skin until he reached her breasts. Twirling his tongue around the dark pink nubs, he thrilled in the urgent sounds coming from Sansa's throat as she pushed her breasts forward, eager for him to take her in his mouth. He finally complied and she moaned softly, her fingers twining in his wet hair.

Without warning he scooped her up in his arms and laid her down upon a mound of fresh hay. He lay next to her and claimed her lips again in a passionate kiss as his hand began to slide up her thigh. She reached for the buttons on his breeches and tore at them impatiently. He chuckled beneath his breath before she caught his lips with hers and momentarily silenced him.

Her head flew back with a gasp as his hand slid between her thighs, his fingers instinctively knowing where to touch her. Her back arched and she gripped handfuls of hay as he gently stroked her. Another gasp slowly turned into a moan of pure pleasure as he slid down her body, tugging on her pantalets until his tongue joined his fingers, nibbling and sucking on her.

Cecile placed the luncheon on a tray and took it into the library, where they usually had their midday meal. She had expected them to be there and was wondering where they were. A quarter of an hour later she pulled on her coat and ventured out to the stables to make sure everything was alright. As she approached she heard Sansa cry out and she rushed to the door. She peered inside and saw her cloak lying on the ground by the entrance. Noises were coming from further inside but she was unsure what was happening. Thinking someone might be hurt she stole in a little further. She peeked around a corner and was just able to muffle her gasp of surprise before pulling away. Quietly creeping out of the stables, she ran back to the house a smile teasing at her lips.

An hour later Sansa crept back into the house and up to her room. Her hair was undone and in disarray and her cheeks were flushed. Sarah was washing the windows of the french doors on the mezzanine level of the ballroom and caught a glimpse of her as she passed the top of the stairs. She thought perhaps she had been out riding until she saw Sandor come up the stairs a few minutes later, in a similar state. She peered around the corner, down the hallway and watched as he knocked on Sansa's door and then entered, closing it behind him. Her eyes opened wide and she flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the maids were having their tea. The three young women whispered eagerly, delighting each other with their own observations of their mistress and master.

"Well no wonder he's not interested in any of us," Sarah remarked, "not when he's got her."

Annoyed that she had made an unflattering remark about Sansa, Cecile stated indignantly, "I make the beds of those two every morning and I have never seen any evidence of lovemaking."

"Of course not, they do it out in the stables," Sarah remarked with a laugh. "Come now Cecile, surely you've seen the way they look at each other. It's obvious they're in love."

"So, why aren't they married?" Tabitha asked.

Cecile thought for a moment and said slowly, "When I was first met Mr. Clegane, Miss Stark said that he was staying in town for awhile and had agreed to stay here with her, to keep her company. He's only visiting, so I guess that's why."

"But it's so clear that they're in love," Sarah repeated.

"Maybe he's married to someone else, somewhere else," Tabitha said with wicked delight.

At that point they heard Sandor and Sansa coming down the stairs. "Shush, now, back to our duties girls," Cecile commanded.

Sansa and Sandor went to the library to find the lunch that had been laid out for them still waiting. Cecile entered and apologized. "I'm sorry it's cold ma'am. I must have misunderstood when you asked me to prepare it." She went to remove the trays, but Sansa placed a hand on her arm. She stood and picked one of them up, "Let me help you. It's not your fault. Mr. Clegane and I were delayed." She paused, trying to think of an excuse for being so late. "He...he was showing me what he had accomplished out in the stables, and I just forgot all about lunch," she said, a light blush tinting her cheeks.

"Yes, ma'am," Cecile said, trying not to smile. She took the tray from Sansa and said, "Thank you but I can manage. I'll return with a new lunch for you both."

"Thank you Cecile," she said.

Once she had left the room, she felt Sandor's arms wrap around her. "Now your servants will have something to gossip about. They must have been bored to tears with how respectable we've been up until now," he whispered in her ear.

She turned in his arms and lightly kissed him. "It was bound to happen sooner or later," she replied. "Did you know I was standing there when you dumped that bucket of water over your head?" she asked, looking up at him.

"No, that was just your good luck to have seen it. I've done that many times before and never knew it would have such an effect on you. I'll have to remember that one," he said nuzzling her neck.

"Do you really think they know?" she asked.

"If they don't know outright, I'm sure they'll suspect. I'll wager Cecile is in there right now whispering about how we were 'delayed' for over an hour in the stables."

"Oh Sandor, I so wanted this to be a respectable household for them to work in, after what they've been through," she said disappointed.

"They're just delighted that the only skirts I'm interested in chasing are yours," he again whispered. He gently trailed his tongue along the outside of her ear, and she closed her eyes and sighed. She pulled away from him, and saw the sparks of passion in his eyes, knowing that those same sparks were in hers.

He took a step towards her as she backed away, a smile dancing on her lips. "Shall we ruin another lunch?" he asked, approaching her with a mischievous gleam in his eye. He lunged for her but she danced out of his reach with a delighted shriek. He lunged again and she ran out of the library laughing. He chased her up the stairs and into her room, where he slammed the door behind them before they tumbled together onto her bed.

Cecile rushed out of the kitchen, Sarah from the french doors in the ball room and Tabitha from dusting in the sitting room. They looked at each other and each started as another delighted shriek came from behind Sansa's door. They began to giggle and Tabitha whispered to Cecile, "I wager you'll find some evidence of lovemaking on her sheets now."

An hour later, Sansa, clothed in just a housecoat, approached Cecile. Blushing furiously, she said, "I assume you now know that Sandor is more than just a house guest."

Cecile wanted to be respectful but couldn't keep the laughter from dancing in her eyes.

"It's alright, you can say it. You'd have to be pretty stupid not to know, especially after this afternoon, and I know you're not stupid."

"Yes, ma'am," Cecile replied, allowing a small smile.

"I know you girls will most likely talk about it, and that's fine, but please, not beyond this house?" she pleaded.

"Certainly ma'am," Cecile said seriously.

"Thank you, Cecile. And could you please prepare a bath, using the extra large tub, in my room?" she requested, blushing again.

As they sat in the steaming water, Sansa's back against Sandor's chest, he asked her, "Are we going to put those promises back into effect?"

She sighed. As much as she wanted this to continue, she knew it couldn't. It would only hurt too much when he left. "Yes, I think we should," she said quietly. "As soon as this bath is over."

He knew why she was saying that and although he was tempted to once again protest and say that she was wrong about him leaving and hurting her, he decided not to press it. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, "Well, if we have until then..." He slid his hands down to her hips and along her thighs, parting them under the water.

That evening when they sat down to dinner, Tabitha was surprised to find that their flirtatious and romantic demeanor had vanished. They were once again friendly and polite. She served them their food and rushed back to the kitchen to report this new twist in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter. Talk to me on tumblr :)  
> tumblr.com/celticwanderer


	25. Chapter 25

A couple of weeks later, Sandor announced to Sansa that since the tack room was almost finished she could hire a groomsman if she wished. He mentioned that he needed to go into town so if she wanted he could post the notice for her. She wrote one up and gave it to him. He took the carriage into town and after posting the notice he continued on to the goldsmith. He went inside and asked if his order was ready.

He then proceeded to the ship yard to check on the repairs to the Aurora. He was led out to where the she was and he glowed with happiness to see her deck smooth and free of holes once again. The charred stumps that had once been masts had been removed and the bases of new ones had been installed. He was taken inside a long building where the new masts were being built. The foreman assured him that the ship would be ready to sail again in a month's time. Sandor thanked him for his time and walked back to the carriage. He then drove to the harbor and found a ship on which to send a letter back to England.

When he returned home, he went up to the sewing room. Sansa looked up as he entered. She smiled and announced, "You're just in time. I'm finished. You now have a very respectable riding outfit. Mostly black with a touch of color. Go in the next room and try them on," she said.

"Surely I don't have to do that," he said smiling. "I can just change here." He removed his coat and began to unbutton his waistcoat. She pushed him towards the door.

"Next door," she said firmly, but laughing.

"Fine," he relented. He grabbed his new clothes and went to the next room, where she stored her fabrics. A few minutes later he returned buttoning the waistcoat.

"Well, how are they?" she asked as he pulled on the frock coat.

"Fine, except for one thing," he said, straightening the coat.

"And what is that?" she inquired, with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Why are my breeches lined in pink?" he asked patiently, knowing full well why.

"Because I ran out of black lining fabric?" she replied, trying to stifle a smile.

"I was just in your fabric storage room and saw that you have plenty of it," he said, trying to be serious as well.

"Oh, I must have missed it," she said innocently. She could no longer keep up the pretense and began to laugh. "Would you like me to change it? I can quite easily."

"No, it's fine," he said, laughing as well. "Actually, I think I rather like it. Thank you for making it." He leaned forward and chastely kissed her on the cheek.

He went back to the adjoining room and changed into his other clothes. When he returned she asked, "Did you go check on your ship?"

"I saw the Aurora. The repairs are on schedule, she should be ready to sail in a month," he said happily.

Her heart dropped when he said the words. "You must be looking forward to it," she said in a tight voice.

"It will be nice to see her back in the harbor, where she belongs," he replied.

She blinked back tears and didn't respond. Turning her back to him she retrieved the dress she had abandoned to work on his suit and laid it out on the table. In an unsteady voice she said, "I'm glad you like your riding suit. I hope you get a lot of use out of it."

Sensing that he was being dismissed he thanked her again and left. She heard the door to the stairs close and she sank into a chair. She buried her face in her hands as his words ran through her head, 'where she belongs.' And where you belong too, Sandor, she thought. She only had him for another month and then she was going to be alone. Alone in a house full of servants. It was going to be months before Bronn was back and even then he would be living in the out-building. Sansa had never felt so alone since her father had died. She sat in the chair for a long time and finally Cecile came looking for her to tell her that dinner was ready. She found Sansa sitting in the dark. As she entered with her candle, she saw that her mistress had been crying.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" She used the candle to light an oil lamp, illuminating the room and knelt by Sansa's chair, taking her hand.

"No, Cecile, I'm not," she replied.

"What is it?" she asked gently.

"He's leaving. In a month he'll be gone," she murmured. "I thought if I kept my distance, guarded my heart, it wouldn't matter when he left, but I failed and it does hurt."

Knowing that she was talking about Sandor, she said, "Why will he be leaving, ma'am?"

Sansa poured out the story to her maid. About first meeting Sandor and running away from Joffrey and ending up on Sandor's ship. About their last night on the water and how angry she was, and Bronn staying to look after her. She even told her about Petyr and explained why she had been so shocked when Cecile had revealed even more of the man's terrible nature. She told her about Joffrey and Sandor showing up on the same day and about the fire that damaged the Aurora causing Sandor to stay in Williamsburg. "And now that the ship is almost repaired, he'll be leaving."

"You love him, don't you?" Cecile asked.

Sansa sighed. "Yes, ever since that first day in Liverpool over a year ago, I've loved him," she admitted.

"He loves you as well, ma'am," she said encouragingly.

"Don't believe everything he tells you, Cecile," she said with a harsh laugh.

"He didn't tell me. It's obvious just from looking at him. The others see it too. It's as plain as day." She paused and then asked, "Does he know you love him?"

"He says he knows, but I'm not sure if he really believes it."

"Maybe if you tell him, he'll stay. Maybe all he needs is to hear it from you."

"I don't know, I just don't know. He's been so eager about his ship being repaired. He keeps going to check on it, to see how much longer it's going to take." Wiping her eyes, she let Cecile help her stand. "I have to wait and see what he does when the Aurora is ready to sail, then I'll know what to do."

Sandor went downstairs and hung his new riding clothes in the wardrobe. He knew he would treasure them forever. He again peeked inside the breeches at the bright pink lining and couldn't help but laugh. Turning away from the wardrobe he dug into the pocket of his frock coat and pulled out the small velvet box. Opening it, he gazed at the sapphire ring inside. The goldsmith had done a wonderful job. He closed the box and placed it inside the bureau. He knew exactly what he was going to do with it. Deciding to read until dinner was ready, he went down to the library to wait.

A couple of hours later Cecile entered with a tray for him. Setting it down , she said "Miss Stark won't be joining you tonight, sir. She has a headache and has gone to bed early."

Rising from his chair and moving to the desk where she had set the tray, he replied, "Thank you, Cecile."

"Will you be needing anything else tonight, sir?"

"No, Cecile, thank you. Good night."

She bobbed a quick curtsey. "Good night sir."

A few days later, Cecile announced to Sansa that there was a young man at the door for her. He was responding to the posting for a groomsman. He was the fourth one to come by. She hadn't hired the others because she didn't feel comfortable with them. She felt that since Sandor was leaving whoever she hired would have to be someone that she could trust to have around. If Sandor were staying the issue wouldn't be so crucial.

Sansa met him in the sitting room. "Good morning, my name is Sansa Stark," she greeted him.

He stood and nervously clutching his hat, replied, "Good morning Miss Stark. I'm Podrick Payne, but everyone calls me Pod." He was a little on the heavy side, with dark hair that he kept pushing out of wide brown eyes. Sansa guessed he was about twenty years old.

"Well Pod, why don't you tell me a little about other places you've worked."

He explained that he didn't really have any experience directly as a groomsman. "I've only worked as a stable boy, helping out my Dad. He was one of the groomsmen at the Kincaid house in the next county. He got kicked by a horse and can't work now, so I'm looking for a position. I can do the job ma'am, especially since you said in the posting that you only have a few horses."

He looked at her with such guileless eagerness that her heart immediately went out to him. She wasn't about to act so hastily though. She talked with him for awhile about his duties at the Kincaid house and she took him out to the stables and showed him the newly renovated quarters and tack room. She also showed him the barn where some of the equipment was kept. They then returned to the house, where he asked, "Do you live here alone, ma'am?"

"Well, I do have three house maids that live here and at the moment a friend of mine is staying in the house, but he'll be leaving in about a month." She stopped and looked at him, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's just that you referred to everything as yours, not ours, which is what I'm used to hearing when being interviewed for a position."

"Have you applied for many positions?" she asked.

"A few, But they always want someone with more experience." He looked up at her with earnest eyes. "Please give me a chance, ma'am. You won't be disappointed."

Sansa liked the young man. She felt at ease around him and knew that he would work hard. "Alright Pod, I'll give you a chance. The position is yours."

He gazed at her with eyes full of gratitude and for a moment she thought he might hug her. "Oh, thank you, ma'am. Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now come with me and I'll introduce you to the rest of the staff." She took him to the kitchens to meet the girls, and noted that Cecile blushed quite a bit while being introduced to Podrick and he did likewise.

The next month was torture for Sansa. The time seem to both fly by and crawl incredibly slowly. As the end of Sandor's time with her came nearer she craved his company more and more. They went for long horse rides and spent many hours in the library playing billiards or just chatting by the fire. And she spent many hours at night in bed willing sleep to come but it always eluded her, leaving her with her thoughts and more often than not, tears

One afternoon Sandor arrived home after being in town and announced that the repairs to the ship were finally complete. He had been to see her and she was once again magnificent.

Sansa tried to share in his happiness. "That's wonderful, Sandor. When does she go back into the regular harbor?"

"In a couple of days. I'm hoping to meet with Simpson tomorrow. He's been captaining a ship that runs between here and New York and he's due to dock in the morning. I must speak with him as soon as possible."

She fondly remembered Sandor's first mate. Of course he would need to speak with him. New crew members would have to be hired and cargo arranged. He would be very busy over the next few weeks, she thought. She forced a smile. "Say hello to him for me when you see him."

When she emerged from her bedroom the next day, he was already gone. She had breakfast and moped about the house waiting for him to return.

Sandor returned to the house after lunch and found Sansa upstairs in her sewing room. She was just standing by the table staring down at her incomplete dress. Sandor knocked on the door, startling her.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you," he said, unable to suppress a chuckle.

"Oh that's alright," she murmured. "I didn't hear you ride up." She picked up the dress, and pretending to examine a seam, she asked, "Did you see Simpson?"

"Yes, I did. We discussed what needs to be done for the Aurora's return trip to England and he's going to take care of everything."

"Well, that's good, that he's so capable," she said lamely. She felt tears threatening her eyes and she blinked them back.

He approached her and stroked the dark violet fabric of the dress she was holding. "This is going to look lovely on you," he commented.

"Thank you. Jeyne was always so annoyed that I looked better in this color than she did," she said, laughing too loudly and putting the dress down.

He noted her agitated mood and flustered behavior. "Littlebird, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" she said, once more picking up the dress only to put it down again. She suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room with him and with a muttered, "excuse me," she rushed through the door and down the stairs. She turned into her room and closed the door behind her. 

The tears that had threatened a few minutes earlier finally burst forth and she sat down on the edge of her bed as they slowly streamed down her face. She wasn't going to be able to bear it when he left. Perhaps she should ask him to stay, tell him she loved him. No, it's too late, she thought. Simpson's already making all the arrangements to return to England. I'll be lucky to see him again this year, she thought, recalling how long he usually liked to stay in Liverpool before having to make another round trip, and he may not even come back to Williamsburg. The east coast was dotted with ports and his next cargo could be destined for any of them. In a few weeks he was going to sail away, right out of her life forever. She collapsed onto the bed as a fresh wave of tears overtook her and she swore she could hear her heart breaking.

Sansa stayed in her room for several hours and finally emerged only after it was dark outside. She knew her eyes were red and puffy and she hoped that in the dim evening light, Sandor wouldn't notice. She entered the library where she knew he would be. He greeted her and asked if she felt up to a game of billiards before dinner. "No, not tonight, I think I'll just read a bit." She picked up her book and stared at the page, not really seeing the words. It took every ounce of her willpower not leap up and run into his arms, begging him to stay.

As soon as Sansa entered the room he had noticed her drawn face and puffy eyes. It tore at his heart to see her like this but he didn't comment on it. She declined his offer of a billiards game so he just aimlessly shot the balls about the table until dinner was announced.

They sat across the table from each other in a tense silence. Tabitha reported back to the other two maids and Pod in the kitchen between serving the courses. "They're not speaking to each other. The atmosphere out there is terrible. She's very upset and he seems most uncomfortable," she announced.

"Why doesn't one of them say something?" Cecile said, exasperated. "She should either ask him to stay or he should ask her to go with him."

"I'd rather if they stayed. Do you remember that time about a month and a half ago when they let their emotions get the better of them? They were so happy. Can you imagine it being like that all the time?" Tabitha said happily.

Intrigued, Pod eagerly asked, "What happened?"

Cecile whispered back, "Well, when Mr. Clegane was making the renovations to the stables, Miss Stark went out there to get him for lunch one day. Well she was gone for so long so I went out to see if everything was alright. I found them together, on a pile of hay, and you can guess what they were doing. After about an hour they came back in and almost right away they were laughing like a couple of kids and he was chasing her up to her room. But by that evening, everything was back to normal. It was very strange."

Pod stared at her with wide eyes.

"But he's leaving soon, and that's why she's so upset," Sarah added.

"I better go clear their plates," Tabitha sighed leaving the room. She returned a few moments later with the plates, both of them hardly touched. She set them down and said, "Not only are they not talking, they're not eating either."

Sansa looked at Sandor across the table. She nervously cleared her throat and asked, "So, when does your ship sail?"

"I'm not sure when she sails. It depends on how quickly Simpson can arrange things."

Not looking at him, she replied, "I see. And is he trying to arrange things quickly?"

"Well, yes. The sooner everything is finalized the better. Only a fraction of the original crew is still here so new ones are being hired and loading the new shipment will take some time. But I would think she'll set sail back for England in a couple of weeks."

Still avoiding his eyes, she again replied with, "I see." She felt tears welling in her eyes again and quickly excused herself from the table and ran from the room, almost colliding with Tabitha. Sandor stood and almost rushed off after her in an attempt to talk to her and explain things, but instead he sat back down and let Tabitha serve the next course of dinner.

Sansa avoided him for the next week, taking Lady out for long rides around the farm and staying in her room in the evenings. Sandor missed her company and stood before her door more than once, tempted to knock on it and urge her to come downstairs.

The morning came for the ship to sail and Sandor rose early, hoping to catch Sansa before he headed into town. He knocked on her door but received no answer. He cracked it open and found the room empty. She was already up. He hurried downstairs but Cecile told him she was already out, having taken Lady for a ride.

"I tried to delay her, sir, but she went anyway," she explained.

Thoroughly deflated, he went back upstairs and got ready for the day. He dressed and waited in the house until the last minute before he had to leave. She still hadn't returned.

He went out to the stables and asked Pod if he could take him into town in the carriage. He sat in the cab looking forward to being back on the ship. He alighted from the carriage and spoke briefly with the young man before shaking his hand. Pod nodded and smiled before driving off.

Sandor scanned the crowd in the harbor looking for Sansa's red hair. She was nowhere to be seen.

He walked onto the docks and boarded the Aurora. He found Simpson and shook hands with his good friend.

"Is she all ready to go?" he asked, looking up at the brand new billowing white sails and the gleaming deck, with hardly a scratch on it.

"Yes, sir. All ready," Simpson replied with a large smile.

"It's a good time for crossing. Spring is always good, pleasant weather with lots of wind," Sandor said, walking around, greeting old crew members and being introduced to new ones.

Sansa stood far away from the docks but close enough that she could see the Aurora. She was wearing a hat to hide her tell tale red hair and the shadow from the wide brim partially hid her face. She knew Sandor was probably already on board and she had purposely waited until the last minute before coming to see the ship sail. She didn't trust herself to see him and thought it best to avoid the chance.

Sure enough, she only had to wait a few moments before the large ship began to move. She fought back tears as it slowly slid out of its berth and out of the harbor. Her heart broke all over again as it majestically sailed away. She watched until she could no longer see it and then slowly turned away. She pulled off the hat, letting her coppery hair spill down her back and walked to where she had tied up Lady. As she approached she saw that her horse was nowhere to be seen. She looked wildly about, but she wasn't nearby. She sighed heavily, and knowing that Lady knew how to get back to the house, she decided to hire a coach to take her home. It was then that Podrick pulled up in her carriage, with Lady tied to the back.

She stared at him bewildered. "Pod, what are you doing here with the carriage?" She looked at Lady tied to the back. "Where did you find her?"

"I brought Mr. Clegane down earlier and I found Lady wandering down the street. I saw you here looking for her and came over. Would you like a ride back?" He was grinning broadly and seemed to be oddly excited about something.

I guess he's never been a carriage driver before and must rather like it, she thought. She sighed and walked up to the carriage to open the door. With her mind a few miles out to sea she numbly pulled open the door and climbed inside.

She sat on the bench and froze. A pair of glowing grey eyes stared back at her. Sandor. Was he really there? Her mind swirled, how could he be here, his ship just sailed away. She continued to stare at him, blinking, thinking she was surely losing her mind. The shock of seeing him, combined with the stress of the last few days finally took their toll and the carriage dipped and dimmed before she slumped over onto the seat.

She awoke to someone stroking her face and saying her name. Her eyes fluttered open and there were those cool eyes again. She tentatively reached out to touch him. "You're here," she said, her fingers gripping his arm.

"Yes, Littlebird, I'm here," he said smiling at her. He was holding her in his arms across his lap.

"But, your ship! I saw it sail away!" she said bewildered.

"You saw the Aurora sail away. Not my ship," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Confused, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "But the Aurora is your ship."

"It was, up until a few months ago. It now belongs to Simpson. I sold it to him."

"You sold it to him?" she asked, still confused.

"Yes, Littlebird, I sold it. I'm not leaving you. Now do you believe that I love you and will never hurt you?"

Her eyes welled with tears and she threw her arms around him, "Oh Sandor! Yes! Yes, I believe you!"

He laughed at her happiness. "Come on now, let me hear you say it, you love me too, don't you?"

She pulled back and stared at him with glowing eyes. "Yes Sandor, I love you. I love you more than anything"

"Why couldn't you tell me that before?" he asked, his scars twistings with his wide smile.

"Because I wasn't sure of you. I thought you would sail away the very first moment..." she suddenly paused as a thought struck her. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. "You sold your ship to Simpson months ago?" she shouted at him. "And you let me believe all this time that you were going to leave me? How could you? Do you realize the torment you put me through?" She began to struggle, attempting to get out of his arms. "Let me go!" she demanded.

Ignoring her struggles, he said, "At any time, did I say I was leaving? No. I only spoke of the Aurora leaving."

"And of course you omitted the part about no longer owning the Aurora. I hate you Sandor Clegane! I want you to go back to England! I never want to see you again!" She continued to struggle in his arms.

"Will you please stop wriggling around so much? And may I ask you something?"

Realizing that he wasn't going to let her go, she ceased her struggles. "Of course, you can ask, but that doesn't mean I'll answer," she snapped.

He dug into his coat pocket as he said, "I'm afraid my dear Littlebird, that I will require an answer to my question." She refused to look at him as he pulled the small velvet box from his pocket. He flipped the lid open and lifted it to her eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke. "My dearest Miss Stark, will you marry me?"

She gasped at the shining sapphire ring in front of her. She looked down at him with wide eyes. She could see the anxiety in his, and knew that this time he was serious. She stared again at the ring and holding his arm, she lowered it so she could see the shimmering blue stone better. "Well, do I get an answer?" he asked, his voice betraying a note of nervousness.

She flung her arms around his neck again. "Yes, Sandor, yes. I'll marry you!"

He pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. He drew away and said, "Hold out your hand."

She did and he slipped the ring onto her finger. She tipped her hand back and forth in the light, watching it catch and shine on the stone.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yes, very much so," she said, her eyes again glistening with tears. "It's perfect." She lifted her eyes and her gaze met his. As always, before she knew it, his lips were on hers and her mind was in a whirl. All she could think of was how happy she was.

They arrived back at the house and Pod had to loudly clear his throat several times before they finally heard him. Sansa looked up and saw that the carriage had stopped and Pod was holding the door open for them. She blushed and giggled before getting up from Sandor's lap and alighting from the cab. They slowly walked up the steps to the house and walked inside, where he took her face in his hands and gently kissed her. In an action that reminded her of Bronn, he tipped his head back and shouted, "She said yes!"

Cecile, Tabitha, and Sarah rushed out of the kitchen and embraced her. Sansa looked bewildered at the three young women. "You knew? You all knew?"

"Only since yesterday, ma'am," Cecile said. "It was so hard letting you go this morning, when you went off before Mr. Clegane even got up," she said, shaking her head.

"I was wondering why you were trying to make me stay," she said.

"Oh ma'am, we're just so happy for you. We knew all along that you loved each other and when Mr. Clegane told us last night of his plan we knew you wouldn't be able to resist. It was just so romantic."

"It almost didn't work. She was quite angry with me in the carriage when I told her that I had sold the ship months ago," Sandor said, still holding her about the waist.

She wriggled out of his grip. "And I still am angry. You're going to have to work very hard to get me to forgive you for that. The torment, the agony, the pure torture you put me through!" she said, her voice rising.

"Would you have believed me if I had told you months ago?" he asked.

"Probably not," she admitted. "But it doesn't matter, you were still very mean and you're not going to get away with it that easily."

He saw the sparks flashing in her eyes and said softly, "I wouldn't half mind if you continued to be angry about it. Those sparks in your eyes are most flattering."

She glared at him but her gaze softened when she saw sparks in his eyes as well, but they were of an entirely different nature. Her anger quickly turned to passion and she looked at him with a heat in her eyes that he hadn't seen for some time. He took a step towards her but she stepped away. He lunged for her as she shrieked with glee and ran up the stairs with him right behind her. They ran down the hallway to her bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

The three maids watched them from the foyer. They shook their heads and walked back into the kitchen. Pod was there and told them about what had happened in town. "Oh yes, she was mad. I could hear her yelling at him, and I thought, 'oh no, the whole things off!'"

Sandor suddenly flung the door of the kitchen open. His coat and waistcoat were both gone, his shirt was untucked and his hair was hanging about his shoulders. He quickly placed three bottles of wine on the counter and said, "Have a drink to celebrate our happiness." He turned to leave but turned back and said with a grin, "I don't think we'll be needing anything more today so enjoy the wine."

They laughed as they heard him running up the stairs and down the mezzanine above their heads.

Four months later - August, 1799

Margaery and Sansa were in her sewing room. Sansa pulled the partially completed wedding dress over her head. Margaery gasped. "Oh Sansa, it's just lovely."

She twirled before the mirror, liking what she saw. "Thank you Margy. I think it'll look wonderful when I finish."

Bronn and Margaery had returned from their honeymoon to find the house abuzz with wedding plans. They were delighted for them and couldn't wait to help. They were also delighted to find maids in the house. After being waited on hand and foot for the past seven months, they weren't looking forward to returning to all the work that the house required.

Sandor had started on the out-building but it wasn't finished yet so they were still staying in the main house and Sansa had never been happier. It was almost like being part of a big family.

She made some marks on the dress and some notes before carefully removing it. Cecile poked her head in the sewing room to let them know that lunch was ready. "Has Sandor come back from town, yet?" she asked.

"No, ma'am, not yet. Shall I wait with lunch?"

Sansa's stomach growled and she laughed. "No, Cecile. If he misses it, that's his fault."

Sandor had been going into town almost every day for the past couple of weeks, claiming to be waiting for the Aurora to return. He said he was anxious to hear from Simpson how the crossings went. She kept reminding him that it was far too soon for them to be back, but Sandor wouldn't hear of it.

Bronn came in from the out-building and was just washing up when Sansa heard a carriage pull up out front. "Well, he's arrived just in time," she said.

She heard the front door open and a few moments later Sandor rushed into the library. He had a large smile on his face and he grabbed her arm. "Come with me. Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you," he said, tugging on her arm.

Mystified as to what he was up to, she complied. "Must I close my eyes right away?" she asked as he led her from the room. He led her into the sitting room and sat her down. He told her to open her eyes and as she did, a squeal of delight peeled out of her. Sitting across from her was a young woman with a large mass of black hair in an elaborate arrangement, wearing a rather low cut dress for the middle of the day. She was staring back at Sansa with dancing blue eyes.

"Jeyne!" she cried and flung herself across the room at her friend. The two women embraced and after drying their tears, Jeyne explained how she had received a letter from Sandor inviting her to the wedding.

"I couldn't possibly miss your wedding day, especially since it took such a long time in coming," she said with a giggle.

"How long ago did you send that letter?" she asked, looking up at her future husband.

"A month before I asked you," he admitted.

"Well, that was rather presumptuous of you. What if I had said no?" she said.

"I knew you would say yes. How many times have I told you that you're the only woman for me and I'm the only man for you?"

She rose and melted into his arms. "Yes, you were right. All along you were right." She pulled back and looked up at him. "It was her ship you've been waiting for wasn't it? Not the Aurora."

"That's right. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I couldn't tell you," he said, obviously pleased that he had succeeded. "I was actually hoping she would be a couple of more days so that it would be your birthday, but is this alright?" he asked.

"Yes, it's wonderful. Thank you," she whispered.

Three weeks later - Saturday, August 24, 1799

Sansa twirled around the dance floor, lost in Sandor's eyes. It was their first dance as husband and wife. Their wedding earlier in the day had been beautiful and now they were married and dancing in the ballroom of their home. She liked the way that sounded, 'their home'.

As they floated about the floor she caught a glimpse of Jeyne. She had changed from the demure dress she had worn during the wedding to one of her more scandalous gowns and now had a throng of men about her. Sansa laughed, so delighted to have her flamboyant friend nearby again.

Along with the Aurora sailing off to England under a new captain Sandor had also entrusted Simpson with closing his home in Liverpool and transporting his belongings back to Williamsburg. Simpson and the original crew members of the Aurora were all present at the wedding and were joyously recounting tales of how Sansa had stowed away aboard the ship and fallen in love with Sandor.

"They're wrong you know," she said referring to the sailors. "I fell in love with you the moment I first looked into your eyes on that wintry street in Liverpool a year and a half ago," she said gazing into his cool eyes.

"So did I," he replied.

"So how is it that it took us so long to get to this moment?" she asked with a smile.

"Well let's see, first there was Joffrey, who was all wrong for you, then Petyr, who, also, was all wrong for you - you weren't very good at picking fiancés, my dear - then you wouldn't trust me and then you hated me, then went back to just mistrusting me." He paused and looked thoughtful. "I do believe it was all your fault," he said looking down at her with a serious expression.

She opened her mouth about to utter a sharp retort, when she saw the smile teasing at his lips. "Why you..." she said, smiling herself.

"It doesn't matter now, because I always knew,"

"That I'm the only woman for you and you're the only man for me," she said, finishing his sentence.

"It's undeniable," he rasped, gazing into her shining sapphire eyes, continuing to twirl her about the dance floor.

The dance ended but they stayed on the floor as other couples slowly joined them. After three dances, Sansa begged a rest. "Mr. Clegane, you're going to have be a little more gentle with me," she said as she sank into a chair.

"What are you talking about?" he said handing her a glass of wine.

She gently pushed the glass away and looking up at him, said, "Surely you didn't think that behaving like husband and wife for the last few months wouldn't result in something, did you?"

He gazed down at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "There hasn't been talk has there?" He looked about the crowded ballroom, before sitting beside her. "Even if there was it doesn't matter now that..." He trailed off as he noticed Sansa gently stroking her abdomen and looking at him meaningfully.

"You mean..." he whispered.

"Yes," she said smiling.

"Littlebird..." He grabbed her and kissed her hard. When he let go, he pressed his forehead to hers and softly whispered. "A baby."

"Yes, a baby," she said, tears glistening in her eyes.

"A family," he said, gazing at her in wonder.

Five Years Later

Sandor leaned over and dangled another strawberry above Sansa's mouth. She lifted her head from the blanket they were lying on and tried to grasp it with her teeth. He kept pulling it away, teasing her with the berry. He finally let her have it and then leaned over and kissed her deeply, tasting the sweet fruit in her mouth.

"Oh no, they're kissing again!" a young voice called out.

Sandor lifted his head and smiled at the two small children staring at them with distaste. The little girl giggled and ran off chasing a butterfly that had flown into the backyard. Sandor laughed watching her long red curls bounce as she ran, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Eva looks more and more like you every day," he whispered.

The little boy came and rolled onto the blanket, his dark hair tumbling into his grey eyes. "Are we going to Aunt Jenny's tonight?" he asked.

"Yes, Eddard, we are," Sansa replied. Jeyne had fallen in love with Williamsburg the moment she arrived. The constant activity of the growing town had appealed to her. She had bought an estate close to town and had already had two discreet but none the less scandalous romances and was currently involved with a visiting Duke who was intensely smitten with her. She was holding a party that night to celebrate Sansa and Sandor's fifth wedding anniversary.

"And will Uncle Bronn and Aunt Margy be there too?"

"Yes, they'll be there too," Sandor answered. "And your cousins."

"Hooray," he cheered, jumping up and down. "Can I have some strawberries too?" he asked gazing at the bowl of fruit.

"Yes, you can. And take some to your sister," Sandor said to his son, as he ran off with the bowl.

Sansa lay back and gazed up at the puffy white clouds and she suddenly recalled a day, long ago, shortly before Sandor had arrived back from England where she had fantasized about this very scene. She smiled as she remembered how hard she had tried to place a different face over his but was unable.

"What are you smiling about, Littlebird?" he asked, leaning over her.

"Just how happy I am. How this is all I've ever really wanted," she said, reaching up and stroking his cheek.

"A family?" he asked.

"Yes, but more importantly, a family with you," she said softly. "And with three children it will be even better."

He pulled back and looked down at her. "Three?" he asked, placing a hand gently on her stomach.

"Yes, three," she replied, smiling at him.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers as she wound her hands around his neck, pulling him close. His hair fell down around her cheeks as she faintly heard a cry of "Kissing!"

When he finally pulled away from her they were both breathless. "Should we call Cecile to come out and look after the children for awhile?" he asked, his grey eyes glowing with passion.

Sansa giggeled and nodded yes, as he lifted her up and carried her inside their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my wonderful readers, this is the end. I've enjoyed sharing this story with you more than you know. All of your kudos and comments have made writing this so much fun. I hope the ending is satisfying to all of you and that you keep reading my other stories. Talk to me on tumblr, or comment and let me know what you thought of the whole story. :) I'd love to have conversations with you guys. Xoxo!  
> www.tumblr.com/celticwanderer


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